


Three Hundred Sixty Five Days

by Aceofcrows, HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, All the Terrible Tags, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blood, Body Horror, Bondage, Captivity, Depression, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fish out of Water, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Self-Harm, Smut, Soul Bond, Suicidal Themes, Teen Sam, Torture, Transformation, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceofcrows/pseuds/Aceofcrows, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: When Sam is finally rescued by his family, he had just begun to feel more secure with his captor. How will his shame and uncertainty affect their growing bond? Can they survive the year with John's eyes always on them? (Picked up from HazelDomain who discontinued her story. If you're confused go here-https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487190/chapters/17016951 )





	1. Day 91

Sam didn't think he could pull the blanket any tighter to his body, as he watched his brother's eyes from the rearview mirror. They kept drifting back to Sam for longer and longer periods of time, questions loaded on his tongue.

Dean had tried numerous times already to talk to him, coax out some form of human emotion. As soon as they'd loaded the angel up and fit Sam into his seat, Dean was after answers, his voice rising steadily until he was yelling. That was when John had told him to back off, a much shaper venom in his tone, when he glanced up to look at Sam too, his eyes lingering on the wings.

Grateful for his father's intervention, Sam let himself drown in the hum of the Impala's engine, the rattle of the AC. His head was stuffed with cotton, just allowing his mind to rest. Yes, he was with Dean and his dad again, but he'd begun to realize he no longer needed saving in the days after Anna's death. He'd defended himself, in his own little way. Cas no longer had the reigns in their fucked up little relationship.

Now it was all a matter if Dean or John would be willing to kill him, or them both.

After an hour, Sam realized if he was quiet enough, he could hear the low thuds of Castiel's prone body in the trunk, shifting with each sharp turn and sudden brake. It's not like John was in a mood to be gentle on the thing that had broken his son. It prompted him into words, shifting his shoulders slightly and making his wings bristle, "Where are we going?"

Dean answered readily, "A safe house in Colorado, Bobby set it up for _his_ kind, warding, restraints, all the goods _."_

 

"Our kind," Sam murmured, not without a tinge of malice.

 

"You're not his kind."

 

"Explain the wings then."

 

Dean's lip curled slightly, "He made you like this. This is not on you. We can fix the wings."

 

"How?" Sam's voice was almost disinterested, lethargic. The wings were so, so sensitive, there'd be no point in trying to remove them. Not to mention his new-found grace- Samael’s new-found grace- would heal them anyway. As if Sam hadn't contemplated it, over and over in his head.

 

"Bobby's workin' on somethin'," John said, knuckles tightening on the wheel.

 

Sam's voice left him again, as he tilted his head up to the sun, its midday stance in the sky. He absent-mindedly started chewing on his thumbnail, thinking hard. They couldn't drive to Colorado in turns, with Dean and John taking turns sleeping. No, they'd have to let him complete the ritual. He snorted, thinking back to the first time. How he'd wondered if that was losing his virginity, how Dean would feel knowing he'd given it up to a guy. How would Dean react to the fact he had to fuck Cas to survive? Or some variation, it didn't matter. Dean knew now, didn't he? He'd have to if he watched all the videos Cas had sent.

 

"We have to stop before sunset," Sam said, almost too quietly for either of the others to hear him.

 

Dean turned in his seat this time, draping an arm over the back, "Are we going to get some answers this time?" He asked, green eyes searching Sam's face.

 

Sam swallowed past the growing lump in his throat, "Maybe, depends on what you ask."

 

"Come on, man," Dean tightened his jaw. "Why do we have to stop before sunset? Are you allergic to the moon like some sort of backward vampire?"

 

"No," Sam faltered, hissing through his teeth as he scratched his forehead, "He and I need to perform a ritual. It can't be done on the side of the road either."

 

Dean took a moment to process, flicking his gaze between John and Sam, "A ritual? The three lives bullshit?"

 

Sam nodded, praying that Dean didn't ask what the three lives were.

 

"What are they? We can figure something out without stopping." John said instead, eyes never leaving the road.

 

"We just need to stop, okay," Sam grit out, his cheeks burning. It was bad enough that he needed Cas' lives to ensure his life, it was a whole new level of shit that Dean and John knew what he had to do. "Please."

 

That word drug so many things to the forefront of Sam's mind. He didn't want to beg for anything again. But this shameful thing that he carried inside him, the fact he was curled up in Cas' arms just this morning when he'd caned him to the bone a week before. He shoved the disgust down, and repeated himself, "We have to stop before the sun sets tonight. It's not a negotiation." It took a fair amount of willpower to keep his wings from flaring, keep from reminding his father and brother what he was.

 

_Samael pulled his wings painfully tight to his body as he looked over the plains, a grin plastered over his face. The wind up here was stronger than he had anticipated. He watched the herds of plain animals roam slowly over the plains. The day was cloudless with unrelenting heat, perfect for diving off mountains to sail in the drafts of air._

_Castiel had stayed behind, to swim in the small pond by their hut. He'd said it was too much effort to fly up and Samael had only kissed him goodbye in response._

_It was not long ago that the pair had seen their first lion, deciding to stay on the continent until they had seen all of the strange animals it had to offer. They'd spent the hottest days lounging around, braiding the thick grasses and fixing the cracks in the hut's foundations. The cooler, clouded days they would wander, on foot or wing._

_Castiel had been fascinated by the cheetah, watching its tail propel it sharply as it pursued his prey._

_Sitting by a watering hole, they had barely escaped death from a quick moving crocodile that had been patiently waiting in the shallow, murky water._

_A loud caw pulled Samael back to the cliff face, an enormous dark eagle perched on a nearby tree, fluffing its own wings before free falling forward into the open air._

_Letting out a loud whoop, Samael dove, laughing against the stinging air in his eyes as he fell._

Sam blinked a few times, fingers tightening in his blanket. The memories were only coming faster and faster, with increasing detail.

 

Dean let out a loud huff, "Sam, you're not giving us a lot to work with here."

 

Sam didn't deign to respond, glancing out the window instead. The trees weren't as thick here, more sunlight streamed through the canopy overhead. They had cleared the mountain and the little town Cas had taken him to over an hour ago.

 

A dull thud resonated in the back, and Sam froze in his seat. He didn't hear anything else again.

 

The silence drug out for hours, not even Dean suggested they turn music on. Sam was growing restless, panic building in his chest with every transient minute. He figured they knew what he and Cas had done; if the angel was truthful about the contents of the package.

 

Finally, _finally_ , they stopped at a gas station. Getting up to pay inside, John left his sons behind in the car with only a quick warning to stay quiet and not draw attention to themselves.

 

Sam reached forward and grabbed Dean's shoulder, "We have to stop tonight, just for an hour before sunset. I can't explain it, you saw the videos, _you know_. Cas is immobile, he won't leave me behind, he can't even fight his way out. I will _die_  if we don't stop."

 

Apprehension flickered in Dean's face, "There was only one video, Sam, what are you talking about?"

 

Sam paused, taking into consideration what Cas would have sent. The cane, the Enochian begging, Sam pleading for a reprieve from his pain. "What was in the video?" He asked, voice soft and deadly as he shifted in his seat.

 

Dean shook his head, running a hand over his mouth, "Were they all the same?"

 

"I don't want to talk about the videos. Can you convince Dad to stop or not?"

 

~~~~~

 

Baby's engine went quiet as they pulled into the motel parking space, almost as silent as the Winchesters as they shuffled out of their seats. The sun wasn't too low in the sky, enough to make Sam anxious but he reassured himself that he had time.

 

John was the one who dragged Castiel out of the trunk, fingers curled cruelly into the collar at his throat while he cut the hogtie. His face was granite as he hauled the disheveled angel across the threshold.

 

Sam said nothing, not bothering looking at Cas as he was dragged into the motel. He stayed close to Dean, even after they'd all stepped into one of the rooms they bought for the night.

 

John held Cas still so Dean could cuff him to a chair in the middle of the room. The elder brother moved immediately back to Sam's side, grabbing his wrist. "You don't have to watch this if you don't want to," he whispered under his breath, "It's not going to be pretty."

 

Sam shook his head, not taking his eyes off the bound angel.

 

"What are the lives?" John asked pointedly, circling around to stand in front of Cas, playing a small knife along his fingers.

 

Hoping Cas would stay silent, Sam took the time to catalog Cas' wounds. He had a nasty bruise along his temple, where the butt of John's shotgun had struck him. Sam knew Cas would have bruising under his shirt and his wrists and ankles would be ragged and bloody. He briefly wondered if it would be pointless to heal him if they were staying with John and Dean.

 

"Blood and grace," Cas said, eyeing that knife with a hitch to his breath, before glancing at Sam, a grim line on his mouth.

 

"Don't look at him," John growled, pointing the sharp, delicate tip of the knife at Cas' chest, letting it rest on the angel's sternum. "That was only two. I know there's three." The knife sunk a little deeper into his flesh and both Cas and Sam winced.

 

Castiel let his eyes fall back to Sam, panic rising in the older man's throat. Before Sam had a chance to react, John's fist fell upon Cas' cheek, a sick thud following.

 

"I told you not to fucking look at him," he hissed, grabbing Cas' face and digging his thumb into the rapidly reddening mark. "The third life. What is it?"

 

Cas tried to jerk back with no avail, swallowing down a cry of pain.

 

John showed no mercy, him letting go of Cas' face was only to aid the second blow. And the third. And fourth. And on and on.

 

Castiel would not betray Sam, not when he'd hurt him so badly. Humiliating him further would earn him nothing. But the longer the blows came, on his face, his stomach, the less sure he was that Sam would stop it before John caused irreparable damage. Eventually, John tired of punching him, trading his bloody knuckles for the knife.

 

Cas' face felt like agony, blood and sweat had fallen into his eyes, making them burn. His eyes were swollen past seeing, and he could feel his ribs moving under his skin after the last couple of blows. The knife was slicing lines into his collarbones, his chest, his arms, and thighs, never-ending and infinite in its emotional seething.

 

Sam was continually shifting on his feet, his wings and back beginning to get itchy and uncomfortable. "That's enough," he said, stepping away from Dean to rest a hand on his father's arm. "He's not going to tell you, and it's almost sundown. You both need to leave." His voice was weaker than he wanted it to be, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the bloody mess that was Cas. "Humans can't survive being in close proximity to the lives being given," he lied smoothly, lifting his chin a little higher. "We can figure out how to reverse this tomorrow, but there won't be a tomorrow for me if this doesn't happen."

 

John hesitated, eyes shifting between his son, Cas, then Dean. He seceded, putting the gory blade into Sam's hand. "The blood," he said stiffly, grabbing his own bag. "You're going to be smart about this?" He asked, jaw tightening.

 

"He's powerless," Sam said by way of response.

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue but said nothing as Sam set him with a look.

 

With both of the hunters out of the room, Sam made quick work of the ropes restraining Cas, whispering soft apologies as the angel fell forward into his arms. He gently shushed Cas' whimpers and let his hands brush against the worst of the bruising, allowing his grace to flow out of his body.

 

Sam's wings were scratching horribly, making him grit his own teeth. He'd let John carry on too long. There was no satisfaction in what he'd done, only a sense of guilt and regret. "I'm sorry, Cas, I'm sorry." He murmured over and over as his hands drifted lower. Most of the bruising on his face had healed, only blood and dirt lingered.

 

Cas' face was drawn tight with pain, and he took Sam's hand into his own, breathing more deeply as the pain in his rubs subsided. "Thank you," he exhaled, his body relaxing into Sam's once he was done.

 

Sam nodded, getting to his feet and helping Cas off the floor. "Let's just get this over with, okay? Quickly, none of your lovey shit tonight, I'm not in the mood. There's a washcloth in the bathroom, clean yourself up."

 

Cas nodded, swallowing and inclining his head, "Of course." He allowed himself a moment to appreciate Sam's body as the younger man stripped down without preamble. The pain was gone, but he knew the eldest Winchester would not hesitate to rip into his body again if he pleased. If Sam pleased. Deep, deep down, Cas thought he deserved the punishment he'd gotten, more even.

 

Sam had never been so thankful for the cutout shirts than now, being able to slip right out of it. He noticed Cas staring and pulled his wings around his body, glaring outright. He wasn't shy, why would he be? Cas had seen every part of his body for thousands of years, then twice a day for the past three months.

 

Cas seemed to take the hint though, walking away to the bathroom to fetch the washcloth. "You've been very quiet today," he noted, wiping down his face and throat before removing his own shirt to clean the blood there. Some bruising still clung to the bottom ribs, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

 

"Yeah, well, they weren't supposed to find us were they?" Sam said sharply, kicking off his pants and boxers to climb under the sheets. "What did you send them? The video of you fucking me? The caning? Dean said you only sent one." Sam's wings were irritable, yes, but this took the forefront of his mind.

 

Cas' nose wrinkled up at that word, he hated it when Sam referred to what they did as 'fucking'. "No, nothing of that nature. It was a video you never saw. You were asleep, I was just waking up. Just affection, a domestic lifestyle. I thought your family would think the wings were real. I should have figured out you were a hunter. The knife in the boot, the restlessness." Cas shrugged.

 

Sam sighed a breath of slight relief at that. They had no idea of anything that had been done, and they never would. "Thank you, for not sending the other ones." He watched as Cas stepped out of his pants, folding them neatly as Sam rolled his eyes. "The knife is on the nightstand," he said, "feel free to wash it if you feel so inclined."

 

Cas scoffed, using the already bloodied washcloth to wipe the gore away, "When you said that your father was mad at you for leaving the family business?"

 

Sam nodded, "Yeah, hunting. I didn't want that life. I wanted to get away from the monsters, face the worst humans instead." He let out a dry chuckle, "Look how well that worked out for me. If John can't fix this, it's over for both of us."

 

"Turn onto your stomach."

 

Sam complied without another word, tucking his hands under his chin and spreading his itching wings. The first drops of blood made him shudder in relief. Cas' hands were solid and slow against the main bone, sliding over the forewing and large flight feathers. "Cas, come on, not tonight," Sam grumbled, irritated with his body reacting so readily to Cas' ministrations. He inhaled sharply as Cas slid his fingers into the small mass of delicate feathers on his right wing, making him go from a semi to hard on quickly enough to make his head spin. He swore under his breath and rocked forward into the bed.

 

Cas smiled at the small admission and moved his hands to Sam's hips, tilting them up. At the first stroke of his tongue, Sam tried to squirm away.

 

"I'm not in the mood for your long-ass foreplay, just fucking get it over with."

 

"There's no lubricant, Sam, and unless you don't want any prep, this is what we have to work with." Cas tried to tug Sam back down to the bed, but the teen was already moving, flipping them over so he was straddling Cas' thighs. Castiel winced, the slightest leftover pain from his ribs jarring him.

 

"Not a fucking word," he warned icily as he took Cas into his hand, stroking the angel. He cheated a bit, using his grace to speed up the process and fix the last of John's damage, including the new cut on his palm. Strangely, the grace didn't feel as cool as it normally did, it was caressing his skin like closeness to fire. Castiel was already hard and leaking in less than a minute, hips canting upwards as he panted. Right before his climax, his hand shot out, gripping Sam's shoulder, "Samael, please."

 

_Samael was looking down at Castiel's prone and shaking body, hands intertwined as their bodies moved together._

_"Samael please," Castiel said, voice wrecked as he tried to rock his hips up to his mate's._

_With a sly grin, Samael's hands slipped out of Castiel's, going to his legs instead to hitch them around his waist. He hauled the smaller male into his lap. Their mouths met somewhere in the middle, Castiel's fingers tangling in Samael's hair as he rode his mate's cock. His wings ripped from his back at the sudden friction against his prostate, and he moaned into his mate's mouth. Samael smiled smugly at Castiel's sudden loss of control and went back to matching his pace._

_"You're gorgeous like this, my love," Samael whispered sweetly, nipping at Castiel's bottom lip as his hand draped over his lover's cock, racing toward the edge, rising higher and-_

Castiel came on Sam's stomach and hand just as Sam forced the memory away.

 

He lifted himself off of Cas and licked his hand, ignoring his own arousal in favor of cleaning himself up. "Don't call me Samael. Especially not now, with Dean and John here. They'll cut your tongue out. If I don't do it first."

 

"I didn't mean to," Cas said softly, his voice shaky. "Sam, let me hel-"

 

Sam cut Castiel off with a sharp hum, not even looking over at the angel still panting on the bed. "I'm fine, I don't want your help." Sam pulled his shirt and boxers back on once he was clean, feeling suddenly bone-tired. "I'm also not sleeping next to you when you're naked," he made a vague flapping hand motion towards the wall, where Dean and John would be getting ready for bed.

 

Cas nodded, propelling himself out of bed to tidy up. "I'm going to use the bathroom before I retire." He said, letting his fingers brush against Sam's arm as they passed.

 

Sam hummed in response, burying himself in the covers. For half a second, he wished they were in Cas' bed, with the clean, soft sheets- he rolled onto his stomach, frowning deeply at the thought. Sleep claimed him without hesitation.

 


	2. Day 92

Sam sat straight out of bed with a gasp, the smattering of glass echoing around the room. He threw the bed sheets off and strode towards the locked bathroom. Tugging on the door handle, Sam snarled. "Castiel, I swear to fucking God," he breathed, jerking the door open. 

Wood splintered around his hand, and it swung to reveal Cas halfway out the broken window, legs kicking at the air as he grunted. He barely fit through it, but he would be able to make it out if he had just a little bit more time.

Sam grabbed him by the legs, hauling back towards the floor. He was angry, beyond angry. How dare he. _How dare he_. "You don't get to fucking run," he hissed, shoving the angel to the ground and dropping his foot on Cas' thigh savagely to keep him pinned. Was Cas truly prepared to up and leave him, after everything. He was just going to let Sam die in agony because he was afraid of Sam's family. "You don't get to leave me here. Not after everything you've done." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he took a shuddering breath, feeling all the fight drain out of him. "You-," he swallowed hard and looked away, tears pricking at his eyes. "You can't leave me." 

Cas stared up at him, his mouth forming a little 'o' of surprise. "Sam. Sam, no. That's not- Sam." He was fumbling to get his feet under him, bracing a hand on the wall. 

The teen was already walking away, wiping at his eyes in frustration. He shouldn't be crying. Not over the angel who had turned him into something other before leaving him in the dust. His stomach clenched, and he felt nauseous. Sam sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes with a huff. 

Cas followed him, kneeling down on the floor in front of him and taking Sam's face into hands, eyes searching Sam's intently. "I wasn't leaving you. I couldn't if I wanted to. And I don't want to. Sam, your family is beyond dangerous. Your father is ruthless, he will _kill_ you if he knows the spell can't be reversed. I know you aren't going to leave them, and you aren't going to take this collar off. I was going to remove it and come back to you. I swear."

Sam tipped his head back, out of Cas' hold, but didn't move away. The tears were still rolling. His breath caught as the angel leaned forward to kiss them as they fell, tracing Sam's cheek with his lips. 

They slowly moved down to Sam's mouth, folding their contours together. Sam let his eyes flutter shut, the tightness in his chest easing exponentially. 

Cas' gentle, slow hands rose to Sam's chest, carefully pushing him back onto the bedsheets. "I would never leave you," he whispered, sliding his body to Sam's side to curl against him. He caught Sam's mouth again, and Sam went willingly, his body going near limp with relief. Castiel continued to murmur soft words, nothing Sam understood. Enochian. 

_Castiel's fingers were combing through his hair, the other hand holding a book._

_Samael had a book of his own, his head in Castiel's lap, wings draped lazily over them both, idly playing with Castiel's. They were both wearing clothes, simple wool pants, for it was cooler here than the plains_

_Castiel looked down at him a lazy smile on his face, "You're beautiful with your bees."_

_Samael laughed, his whole body shaking as he sat up, speaking in Enochian, "Your Italian is improving, beloved." He kissed his mate's cheek sweetly before correcting him, "Ali, wings. Api, bees"_

_Castiel sighed, setting down the Italian dictionary with a slight huff, reverting back to his native tongue, "Perhaps we should go farther north, where it's less inhabited. Less language to worry about."_

_"You are improving every day, Castiel, let's stay a little longer. The summer is almost over, and the autumn season is beyond gorgeous here," Samael assured, taking Castiel's hand in his own, kissing the back of it. "Please."_

"Don't cry. I'm right here. You are safe in my arms," Castiel was still murmuring when Sam came back to himself. He took a shallow breath, his heart racing in his chest. Because Cas wasn't speaking to him in English. 

"Stop talking," he said, pulling away ever so slightly. 

Cas complied, looking concerned. 

"You look beautiful with your bees?" Sam said tentatively.

Cas only looked confused, before something dawned on him. "Italy. Samael?"

"No, it's still me," Sam said quickly, shaking his head and rolling onto his back. "I keep getting these little memories. Snippets of you and him. I don't know what triggers them. I hate it, though, feeling those emotions when I know they aren't mine. I hate this. I hate that you want me to be him. I am not him, Cas. Why didn't you see that?" He swallowed, rolling over to his side to face away from the angel, pulling his wings tight around himself. 

Cas took a small breath before sidling up behind him, stroking his fingers over the bristling feathers. "I don't think you understand how sorry I am for this, Sam, sincerely."

There was nothing else to say, but Sam sighed anyway, looking over the jut of his shoulder to look at Cas. "Are you going to try and leave again if I go to sleep?" 

"No." 

He could be lying, and Sam wouldn't know. But he had a feeling, just the littlest inkling in his chest that Cas wouldn't leave his side unless he asked him to. It was all so confusing, this bond between them. Sam wanted nothing to do with him, with this spell. Somewhere in his soul, hatred for the angel still burned, bright and unending. There was no forgiveness for the horror his body had endured. Was enduring. All for the angel's gain. And Cas had died. And Sam was forced to feel the agony, the despair of losing a mate. He'd been forced to sympathize with him, to understand what he did. He couldn't be angry anymore, not when he'd underwent that taxation. But there was an attraction, something undeniable about the small quirk to Cas' mouth, those eyes that held so many years of emotions, even his body was beginning to entice Sam. It wasn't fair. The twists and turns of affection and torture and kindness were coiling up tight in Sam's head. A cruel reminder of how little control he had, even when Cas was powerless as well. 

"Good."

Sam let himself ease into Cas' touch, closing his eyes and letting himself sleep. 

~~~~

It took Castiel much longer to fall asleep, stroking Sam's wings and watching them twitch or shuffle at random. The white color had stunned him at first. He'd been so sure that Samael's tawny hues would've twined into the feathers by now. But Sam was stronger than he had anticipated too. Even after those initial days of his rebellion, Cas thought Sam would give in to the grace, let himself calm and understand. 

Their stubbornness had always frustrated Cas. Sam may be his own person, but the traits they shared were uncanny. The only separation now was the memories. And those were returning with surprising speed. 

He hadn't divulged the information to Sam yet. Every time the teen had gotten that faraway look in his eyes, Samael's grace had flared, calling to Cas. Maybe Sam knew, perhaps he was hoping Cas hadn't noticed. 

A slight smile tugged at his lips. Having Samael back, his mate. Century after century had passed, leaving Cas emptier every passing year. Had he not found Sam on the side of the road, he may have been just a few decades from fading into nothing, a shell, living in what humans would call a brain-dead state. His grace would keep him alive until the end of this world, but he would cease to exist. 

Now, he could share the rest of this life with his other half, his heart. Sam had no understanding of the magnitude of what Cas had done. He felt the personal effects now, yes, but he failed to grasp just what he'd endure. Time would become meaningless, the lives of others all the more precious. There was no time, but they had all of it together. 

Perhaps Sam would fall away, his soul rejected from its vessel when Samael returned. He would find the next life, free of Cas' searching. He could be happy. 

Cas tightened his arms around Sam's sleep-ridden body, shaking those thoughts from his head and letting the world fade to black. 

~~~~

Both of the angels were rudely awakened by their door slamming open. Sam was the first to comprehend, used to being restless and sleeping lightly in fear of a surprise visit from Cas over the past months.

Dean stood at the door, holding a bag of something hot and sweet smelling, lips parted in surprise.

Sam was out of the bed before anyone had the chance to blink, wings tucked impossibly tight behind his back. "Dean, it's, um, the-the lives. It's better to be close." He swallowed hard, keeping his gaze deliberately off Cas. 

Dean's own eyes took in the scene, Cas' and Sam's askew clothes, the slight smell of sweat and musk. He'd had his fair shares of hooking up in motel rooms, quick and quiet in some cases. Which they would have had to be, knowing that he and John had stayed up late listening for sounds of a struggle, shouting, anything. Calmly, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"It's sex, isn't it?" He asked, setting the takeout bags down on the table and crossing his arms in front of him. His face was impassive, or he was trying to make it look like that. 

Sam saw the truth in the uneasy shift of his brother's eyes, the unsteady sway in his stance. He was shaken up, but not completely blindsided. 

"It is," Cas supplied. Unhelpfully so, Sam thought.

Dean opened his mouth, but rather than saying something, he did a double take on Cas. "H-how? Your grace, I thought-" He'd been red and black last night

"You thought I was powerless," Cas said grimly, "I am. He's not." 

"Are we moving again today, heading farther east?" Sam cut in sharply, deigning to throw Cas a glare.

"Yeah, in about thirty. Does he need to be restrained?" Dean asked, looking Cas over with an acute sense of wariness. "Dad won't like him being free to move around." 

"I know, and that sucks for Dad," Sam said, his attention falling the food on the table. He hadn't eaten since the sandwich from the gas station, and Cas hadn't had anything since yesterday morning. "We'll get packed up and meet you outside, okay?" 

Dean hesitated, glancing at Cas again, something brewing in his eyes that Sam really didn't like. 

"Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Thirty minutes." He mumbled, taking his leave with a huff.

"Go start a shower, we won't have a lot of time to dick around this morning," Sam said, picking up their clothes and the knife to bring them to the bathroom. "We can eat if we have time, and if not, we can eat in the car." The bathroom was a little chilly due to the open window, but nothing some hot water wouldn't fix. Sam set Cas with an irked glance, and the angel quickly turned away.

Cas did as he was told, triple checking the water before stepping in, scrubbing down quick while Sam stripped down and hopped in behind him. 

He gave Cas the knife and turned around, baring his wings a safe distance from the shitty spray of water. 

Cas seemed to get with the program a lot faster this morning, and Sam was grateful for it. The blood was a relief, yes, but even Sam was a little disappointed in the lack of touches he received. Then Cas was stripping his dick without Sam even prompting him. 

Sam pressed in just a little closer, letting his breath graze the shell of Cas' ear, "Come on, Cas, just a little more." There was no shyness to be found. Fucking Cas day in and day out had left him no choice but to pick up a few choice phrases and motions that got Cas off just _that_ much faster. 

It worked though, as Cas was cumming seconds later, biting down a little cry. Sam swiped a bit of it up, licked it off and then stepped out to towel down. Cas seemed to be reeling in the shower, staring ahead blankly. 

Sam paused, eyebrows pulling together as he stepped closer, hand outstretched, Cas' name on his tongue. 

There was a sudden and dull sensation of falling, and the world collapsed into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm


	3. Day 92 (cont)

There were no dreams here, just the soft lull of darkness, cooing in his ear, embracing him. There were sensations, a brush of a hand, a mumbled whisper, the caress of a feather against his jaw. There was peace and tranquility, and Sam wanted to stay here forever.

However, the world was not used to giving Sam Winchester what he wanted. 

"Sam."

The darkness was fading, and it was all Sam could do to hold on to it, to cling to that neverending sea of rest.

"Sam," there were hands on his face, and he batted them away, irritated.

But then the darkness was gone, ripped away from Sam's beseeching grasp. Sam blinked as he took in his surroundings. He was in a car, not the Impala. Something much newer, less cared for. 

Dean was sitting above him, concern and... regret on his face. "Hey, come on now." 

Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position, hissing through his teeth at the sudden and deep aching in his head, pulsating with every heartbeat. John was driving, silent and stiff as all hell. 

"Yeah, you hit your head pretty bad on the sink. I think you dented the porcelain," Dean said with a mirthless chuckle, sitting back into his own seat. "I, for one, think that could have been prevented entirely, don't you, feathers?" He asked sharply, not taking his eyes off Sam.

"Cas?" Sam asked, turning to look at Dean with a grimace as he braced his hand on the seat in front on him. His brother tipped his head forward to John.

Who wasn't John, like Sam had thought. He'd seen the dark hair and immediately assumed his father was driving. Doing a double take, he looked wildly between the two. "What happened? What-" 

"Is your head hurting?" Cas cut in.

"Yes, my head is hurting, what the fuck-"

Cas reached his hand back, eyes still forward, managing to touch the hand braced on the shoulder of the seat. Grace flowed through his fingers, and Sam blinked.

"The collar?"

"Gone."

Sam twisted back to Dean, waiting for some sort- literally any fucking sort of an explanation. They'd been fine, everything had calmed down. Until, until the shower. Cas had been still, utterly, inhumanly frozen. A spell maybe?

He only gave a half-hearted shrug, leaning back in his seat. "You were out for a couple of hours, you missed some stuff." 

"Clearly," Sam huffed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "My knife?" 

"I took it away," Cas said, "along with your brother's. The two of you have way too many weapons on your persons at all times." 

"Are we really fucking back to square one, Cas?" Sam asked, seething, "Really? You, what? Kidnapped us, grabbed us and ran?" 

"Something of the sort," he replied distractedly. "Besides, I think I would have been better off taking your brother initially, he's perfectly quiet and calm."

"Don't drag me into this," Dean muttered, "I'm here for the emotional support, not the therapy." 

"Emotional support? _What_ is happening?" Sam demanded, growing more and more frustrated. 

Dean and Cas' eyes met in the mirror, but they both remained silent. 

The shower, the silence. A glint in Cas' empty eyes. Sam closed his eyes, trying to make sense of this situation. 

Cas, frozen, in the shower, looking almost timid. Then lunging, reaching for Sam, missing the teen's outstretched hand. Castiel knocking into him, sending him falling backward. A sick clunk, and then nothing.

"You pushed me?" Sam asked, voice soft, uncomprehending. "And ran off to destroy the collar?" 

"That was the plan, yes," Cas affirmed, taking a deep breath. "It was a risk, I could have hurt you beyond repair, yes, but something was _not_ right with your father's behavior. After I removed the collar, I came back immediately, healed the majority of your concussion and all the fractured parts of your skull." 

"My fractured skull? So the sink-"

"Was very dented," Dean finished tightly, shooting daggers at Cas' back. 

"Why are _you_ here?" asked Sam, turning his attention back to his brother.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here, aren't I?" 

~~~~

Conversation fell away after that. Sam was brooding, thinking, maybe just stewing, Cas didn't know.

Dean, the brother, was definitely thinking, contemplating his whole existence. Today had been very trying for him as well. 

Cas was neither happy nor upset. He felt some relief, in the fact they were far away from John Winchester and his methods. Cas' grace was returned, purring and rolling in his veins, joyous to be free of that damned collar. 

The plan was formed as he went, a single unrestrained move, and suddenly Cas had no choice but to act. He'd meant to push Sam, yes, to throw him off balance for half a second so Cas could be out the window and gone in half a second. But he'd pushed too hard, and Sam had crumpled on the floor. 

Cas only had time to check for breathing before swiftly pulling on his clothes and climbing out the window. If worst had come to worst, he could have used his wings for cover. 

He'd gotten lucky, the motel's maintenance room had been unlocked, and a pair of bolt cutters were hanging on the wall. 

Once he was free, it was a matter of getting a car. He could fly with Sam, but not for very long or very fast. 

He was on his way back to the Sam when he'd heard the shouting from the Winchesters' room. Dean's voice if he wasn't mistaken. 

But listening in to that conversation, it had changed everything. Suddenly, there was more than just a need to escape, it was a life-and-death situation. 

Cas hurried back to his lover, healing him as quickly as angelically possible without waking him and left a moment later. It was imperative that he had Dean's help, and based on what had transpired between the human and his father, Cas was willing to bet Dean would join him. 

All Cas had to do was be waiting for Dean when he came out of their room. 

Luckily, Cas was very good at calculating the Winchester's motives.

Sam was asking questions that Cas didn't feel inclined to answer, especially with Dean here now. 

The elder Winchester brother was unlikely to tell Sam what exactly had transpired. He was still probably reeling from both John's and Cas' confessions. Cas knew he was reeling himself. 

But now wasn't the time to worry about it, John hadn't collected the necessary ingredients. But he still had the spell in his arsenal. Given, Sam's father was ambitious and was going to be even more so when he realized that both of his sons were missing. 

Castiel had been hunted before, yes, but not by someone like John Winchester, who not only had a personal vendetta but a whole underground system of rigs and alarms. 

It would be tricky, but Cas was sure that with Sam _and_ Dean, they could avoid catching his attention. "Did you ditch your phone?" Cas asked, addressing Dean with a quick glance.

"Obviously. We should get new ones though so we can stay connected. We might have to split at some point," Dean said, crossing his arms and leaning his head against the window. 

"You're both being weird," Sam muttered. "Why can't I know what's going on?" He set Cas with a hard look, "Don't you think I deserve to know? Since you kept me in the dark for a month? Promising me I could leave, knowing full well that I'd be tied to you forever. Don't you think we've had enough secrets?" He prompted, driving that little knife deeper and deeper under Cas' armor. "After everything, you're gonna revert back to the secretive, manipulative asshole that I thought you were?" 

"It's not my story to tell, Sam. You can stop with the guilt-trip, I understand you're frustrated. I wish it wasn't like this, but I won't be the one to tell you." Cas said, voice tight. Sam was trying to unground him, get him in a tizzy, hopefully well enough that he'd get upset and reveal something.

Samael used the same tactics. Except, usually, it was to get Cas so sexually frustrated that the smaller angel would tell him a surprise early, just for a touch more friction, a little more tempo. And who was Cas to deny his mate?

"Sam, I'm going to stop somewhere for food? What do you want?" 

"Subtle, Cas. Real subtle." 

"Are you not hungry?" Cas demanded, nerves fraying with every sharp dig at his integrity. 

Sam's rumbling stomach was the only answer. 

~~~~

They only had to drive a while longer to get to a semi-busy diner, where they could get lost in the crowd. Cas had gotten out first, warning Sam to stay in the car for just a minute. 

He came around the side and opened Sam's door, leaning inside. "I can hide your wings, but you're going to drop the fucking attitude, for the sake of me and your brother. Not everything is about you."

Sam made a face, "That wasn't the case three months ago." 

Cas' eyes sparked, a hint of grace alighting them. "Last chance, Sam." 

"Yeah, fine, no attitude." Sam ceded with a frown. 

Cas cupped the back of Sam's neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. God, Sam hadn't missed that, the rough, possessive touches, the one-sided intimacy. Without his grace, Cas couldn't act the same, he'd been more subdued. Now, there was cold, cold magic floating between them, icier than Sam remembered. 

The tension in his back began to melt away, his skin and bones melding and folding to tuck his wings away. Weightless. Wonderous. A breath of relief rushed out of Sam's mouth as Cas pulled away. A half chuckle broke from his throat as he rolled his shoulders. For the first time, in so long, he felt achingly human, and it was glorious.

"The spell only lasts a couple of hours without a reboot, which I don't feel like doling out," Cas said, looking over the open space where Sam's wings would have been.

Sam's good mood dimmed immediately. He pushed Cas out of the way, climbing out of the car. Dean was already standing near the door, watching them intently. Sam let his touch on Cas' arm linger, only to pull that wild, fire-like shock out of Cas with his own grace. 

The angel flinched away, setting Sam with a glare and a huff. "Why are you acting out all of a sudden?" He demanded, placing a finger over the mark to study it. "Strange," he murmured, rubbing the edge with gentle reverence. "It's not healing." 

Sam shrugged, striding away to catch up with his brother. 

It took Cas longer to join them. He spent another few seconds at the car, marveling at the lasting mark on his arm. 

Dean didn't waste the opportunity though, immediately pulling him inside, "I'm sorry that I let this happen, Sam, I can't explain it right now. But Dad... He's not right in the head. What happened, with you and Feathers, it blew some sort of gasket. It was safer to come with you and him. For both of us." 

_Both of us?_ Sam forced the information from his head, it wasn't useful at the moment. "I'm glad you're here," he said with a curt nod. There was no lie. Safety in numbers wasn't a joke. And suddenly, they outnumbered Cas, even if he didn't have the collar on anymore. 

Dean smiled tightly, but it dissipated as the angel found them in the line, nodding his greeting. 

The waitress was nice enough, but none of the boys had the desire to ogle at her. She was Dean's type, definitely. Any other day, he'd be smirking, leaning back in his seat, adding just a hint of drawl to his voice. But not today.

Sam was too busy eating, scarfing down as much food as humanly possible. He didn't remember pancakes being that good, practically ever. Maybe the lack of food was just getting to him. 

Cas was sitting across from him and Dean, subtly studying them. Or trying to, at least. 

"Can you not stare at us like we're going to murder you at any second?" Dean asked, poking at his own food with much less gusto than his brother. 

"I don't know, can you stop looking like you're going to murder me at any second?" Cas said, shaking his head with annoyance. 

Sam sighed, setting his fork down to look from one to the other. "When do I get to know what the fuck happened between you two?" 

Dean went back to his sausage and Cas adverted his eyes. 

"Really?" Sam huffed, "What? Did you fuck him, too? Needed _another_ angel in your life?" 

His brother choked.

"That's vulgar," Castiel chastised, leaning forward in his seat. "You're acting like a child." 

"You're treating me like one," Sam threw back without an ounce of hesitation, before lowering his voice, "You're keeping secrets after you attacked me, severely injured me and you just expect me to lay down and put my ass in the air without question. This arrangement has always been your fucking game, and I don't want to play it anymore. You don't get to just call the shots and think I'm going to agree." 

Dean put a hand on his arm, wiping his mouth with the other, "Saying Dad isn't doing great is an understatement. He's been babbling to himself for weeks, staying up all hours of the night. He doesn't eat, he doesn't hunt. Just reads lore and cleans his weapons, day in and day out. I thought it was best to get us out of there. Feathers helped, but that was an accident. He wasn't apart of the original plan." 

Sam looked away, falling silent. 

_A dinner table, decked with food and floral arrangements. Three chairs. Anna and Cas were sitting in two, Samael in the other. It was silent._

_Cas looked up from his plate, worry in his eyes as he held Samael's gaze._

_Anna was sitting completely still, hands in her lap as she stared forward at nothing. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, her clothes askew._

_"Anael, please, eat something." Cas' hand reached for her, and she flinched away._

_"I'm not hungry."_

_Samael sighed, putting down his fork, "Daniel is not dead, Anael, stop acting like it. He just doesn't want to be found." There was something about that name, the familiarity of it that made Sam squirm._

_"How do you know that?" She snapped, eyes flicking with a sharp darkle to Samael._

_"You would have felt his death, you know this. Some angels go insane when their mates die, screaming in agony. To my knowledge, you haven't had a psychological break, and you're still capable of conversation."_

_Anael, Anna, whatever she went back to staring at the wall, dark wings shuffling in discontent behind her._

_"He did see you lying with another man, a human, no less," Samael said, a small smile playing on his mouth as he glanced at his mate. "You didn't even invite Daniel."_

_Daniel. Daniel. That name._

_"Samael," Cas hissed._

_"At least Castiel and I ensure that all three of us are enjoying it," Samael continued on, shrugging nonchalantly._

_"You're cruel," Anael said, rising from the table and storming away._

_"And you sleep around without telling your mate."_

_Cas threw a grape at the larger male, hard._

_It splattered on impact, making a mess of Samael's recently groomed wings. "Oh, please. You never speak kindly of her anyway. We should invite Daniel over for dinner though, and maybe our bed if he's so inclined."_

_The next grape hit his cheek. "She's in pain."_

_"We are too, listening to her weep over her own mistakes."_

_"Samael."_

_"I'm not going to apologize for forcing her to come to terms with her infidelity," Samael said, leaning back in his open chair, allowing the tips of his wings to rest on the floor._

_Cas shook his head, dropping his face into his hands to rub his eyes._

_Samael laughed gently, getting up to circle to his mate, kissing his bare shoulder with a searing kiss. "You worry too much, beloved."_

_"Perhaps you don't worry enough."_

_"Maybe," Samael purred, sliding a hand into the soft, downy feathers of Cas' wings, "but I don't think Anael's issues are ours to worry about." The man shuddered under his fingers. "Don't you agree, Castiel?" Sam's fingers crept down the length of Cas' flight feathers. "How long has it been since we invited someone to come home with us for a night?" He murmured, breath brushing against Cas' ear._

_"Samael," Cas' voice hitched and he arched into the touch with a soft sound._

_"Yes?" His voice was infinitely amused, seductive and lethal._

_"Please."_

Sam jerked out of the memory with a hiss, catching Dean and Cas' attention.

Eyes wide, breath ragged, Sam looked to Cas. 

"Hey, what happened? You zoned out pretty bad there," Dean said, eyebrows furrowing.

Cas was the first to look away from Sam's hard gaze. 

"The memories are awesome, Cas, thank you." Sam snarled, turning his attention to Dean but the words died in his mouth.

"Sammy?" 

"D-Daniel," Sam breathed, "You're-" 

"Yes," Castiel jumped in, clearing his throat. "He is Daniel's reincarnate. It was a surprise when I first saw him, I didn't think you'd make the connection."

Dean frowned at Castiel, "You said he wouldn't figure it out for a long time."

"I don't control what memories he dredges up," Cas defended, waving a hand like Dean's words were a gnat in his ear. "What did you see? What memory?" 

Sam swallowed, grimacing, "Anna- Anael- whatever she goes by, was upset because she got caught screwing someone. Daniel left, and you and I... Discussed something weird. I don't want to talk about it."

Understanding flickered through Cas' eyes, and he nodded. 

"But we- you and him- didn't actually..." Sam trailed off.

"We did, every couple of years," Cas affirmed, twisting his hands together nervously.

"But not with..."

Castiel winced for them both, "Twice, after Anael gave up the search."

"Fucking hell," Sam rubbed his eyes with a disgusted groan. "I could have gone my entire life without ever knowing that."

Cas' mouth tightened, eyes filling with concern. "That was long ago. Not you."

"But it's going to be if everything goes to plan, right?" Sam asks, wiping his mouth. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to use the bathroom, and we can go." He stood up and stormed away.

"What was that about?" Sam overheard Dean asking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately feel bad for Sam, but he has a long more to get through, huh?
> 
> -Ace


	4. Day 92 (cont.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than the other chapters, sorry.

John’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. He should have guessed that the angel would have manipulated Sam. It should have been evident that they would disappear without a fucking trace. The adamancy that they be left alone that night, John huffed. Maybe there was a struggle or an accident. The bathroom window had been broken from the inside, either Sam or the angel had escaped that way, perhaps both. 

Dean had most likely tipped Sam and the angel off about John’s plans and then ran with them. He’d always had a deep loyalty to Sam, but this crossed the line. Sam had been turned into something else, he wasn’t Sam anymore. 

At first, it had struck John so deeply, to see his son look at him with relief and also fear. But when he realized exactly what his son had become, it was time to shut those emotions down, get the job over with. 

Bobby had spent weeks researching the lore, growing more frustrated every day. They all were. Dean had been more anxious than anything else, thinking about his brother going AWOL. 

John had found Dean’s broken cell phone on the side of the road, dropped to avoid being tracked he supposed. John would have done the same. That had his plan screeching to a halt. 

Hesitation lined his body, thinking about hunting his sons like the filth they put down every day, but there was a high chance that Sam was already turned. There might be no way to get him back, and John had to steel himself against that kind of attachment. There would be no chance of giving quarter this time. He had hoped that Sam would reject the angel, be prepared to die to get away from him. 

But that hadn’t been the case. 

There’d been underlying affection in their glances, fear yes, but some kind of _need_ that had John’s gut roiling. The wings had been shocking enough, let alone the protective nature Sam had adapted. 

They’d been too late to save him. And that was something John would have to live with forever. 

Along with the burden of being the one to kill his own son.

He would never ask that of Dean. Not when he’d fought so hard for his little brother when they’d figured it all out. 

The video Bobby received stated that it would only be sent if the angel was dead. He obviously was not. It left too much to wonder about. 

Facts: the angel wasn’t capable of fighting back against them, or he would have on that cliff. Sam can’t survive without the angel. There is a form of love growing between them. Without undergoing the lives, Sam would die. Dean was gone, perhaps with them. 

John rubbed his forehead. He was tired of thinking about all of this, about what Sam went through while he was too busy being angry at him for leaving. 

He was practically out of options. None of the three had left any belongings behind, nothing he could cast a tracking spell on. He didn’t even know what kind of car they stole. There weren’t any cameras out here. 

John dialed Bobby, checking his rear-view mirror.

“What?” Bobby’s voice was rough, tired even through the phone.

“Sam, Dean, and the angel ran off,” John said, fast and declarative. 

“Shit, why? You didn’t-” 

“No, I didn’t try to kill Sam. I still thought there was something we could do. But Sam’s gone, he’s not the same. Next time I find them, I can’t let him go again. I don’t know what’s going on in Dean’s head. But I think he helped them get out of dodge without me noticing. Kid’s always been good at that.”

“Anything you could track?”

“Nothing, their room was spotless, no traces of feathers or hair. All they left was a broken window and food on the table. Cold, not even eaten. They could be over two hours ahead of me in any direction.”

“Shit, John. You had him, what happened?” 

John hesitated, licking his lips, “I told Dean about the spell, and he didn’t take it well.”

“Of fucking course he wouldn’t take it well, he practically raised that kid, John.” 

“I know, alright, I know that. I need to find them, though, make this right.” 

“Alright, I’ll look into it. Don’t do anything stupid.” The line cut out and John exhaled, tapping the phone to his lips contemplatively.  
He could fix this. He could save both his boys.

~~~~

The car was quieter than ever before, Sam stewing in the back seat so he could glare holes in the back of Cas and Dean’s heads.

Dean had made a point not to look at either one of the men in the car, Cas having unabashedly pulled him up to speed in the restaurant. 

The wings had returned, unwelcome in Sam’s eyes, as he had to continually re-adjust in his seat to keep them from getting sore. 

“Sam,” Cas started carefully, his words unsure and clumsy, “I know you’re getting frustrated with all of this. And I’m sorry that Dean was involved in any of our past. But we couldn’t have known this would happen, and it truly wasn’t you who participated.”

“You do realize that I could remember it, though, right? Like a bad phrase from either of you and suddenly I’m in the middle of a memory I never want to see.”

Dean coughed, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“The more you think about it, the more likely it will be that you dredge it up,” Cas said unhelpfully.

Sam groaned, sliding down a little in his seat. The upholstery in the car was cloth rather than the leather he was used to. He dragged his fingernails through it, making small patterns.

There was something red hot in his sternum the more he thought about it. How Cas’ and Samael’s relationship worked. Cas, the old Cas, seemed to be more laid back, less aggressive. But Samael, he was an antagonizer.

“You’re different,” Sam said, half-mindlessly, “In the memories. You always seemed so calm.”

Cas snorted, “Back then, before I understood loss, and before humans began to hunt the “things of the night,” I was. We both were.” He sat for a heartbeat before continuing. “Samael was… bold. Much more than you are. My mate was brash and unafraid of consequences. You are both stubborn, brave, and kind at heart. But Samael didn’t have the same capacity for caring as you do. His immortality took its toll, wearing away pretenses, his ability to hold his tongue. He was the more dominant of the two of us, without question.”

“But I’m not like him?” Sam asked, making a mental comparison of him and Samael.

A frown tugged Cas’ mouth, “No. Not as much as I originally thought. There were a few moments where you held yourself like he did. The brutality, uncaring. When you locked me in the basement. Samael never treated me like that, but some part of him wasn’t as carefree as I was. The occasional times we fought in battles,” Cas shuddered, “I didn’t understand it.”

Dean’s head turned now, “And you’re going to turn my brother into that? Without a second thought?” 

Cas swallowed, “I don’t see much changing in Sam as far as Samael’s traits go. I don’t know how that will turn out. Or what will happen at the end of the year.” 

Sam sighed, “But you said my wings are different, that I don’t seem to be picking up every piece of him.” 

Cas met his eyes in the rearview mirror, “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I am going to pick up a weekly schedule for all of our sake. Wednesdays probably after 5, because school is a bitch to post at. Longer chapters to come, again, I'm sorry. See you next week!
> 
> -Ace


	5. Day 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for self-harm.

None of them wanted to talk after Cas’ admittance, so the next several hours were awkward and stiff, even after Dean took the liberty of turning the radio on to drown out the silence. They stopped at a hotel a good hour before sunset, asking for just one room for the night. Yeah, a single hotel room. 

Cas had stopped at some overpriced bullshit Hilton because Dean thought John would be less likely to think about them staying at a higher-end place. They didn’t indulge themselves with finery, it wasn’t their style. Beer, women, the occasional porno, maybe, but a nice hotel room seven floors up with its own gargantuan bathtub, no. 

Sam was not happy with Cas when he was told that the angel had asked for a single room with two beds. And going by Dean’s grimace, he assumed his brother felt similarly. 

The nightly routine went practically as quiet as most of the day was. Sam and Dean had the dance down pat, Dean took a shower first, while Sam set their duffels up, picked a bed and turned the tv on. 

“Are you hungry?” Cas asked, eyes tracking Sam’s movements with innocent fascination from his seat on one of the beds.

“A little, but I don’t want to go downstairs for food,” Sam said, sitting down across from the angel and folding his hands in his lap. 

“We can order room service. If you want.”

Sam shrugged, “I guess.”

“You’re unhappy.”

“No shit.”

Cas frowned, “Sam, I’m sorry that you feel lost and afraid, but it truly safer to be here with me. And Dean.” He added quickly. 

Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating his words carefully. “I do feel lost. Like I’m getting lost between memories of him and what you’re expecting me to be. I don’t think you fully understood what you were doing when you decided to go through with this, and now we’re all paying the consequences for your decision, me more than you and Dean.” 

Cas nodded slowly, taking in Sam’s words with a sense of guilt, “I know…” he paused, opened his mouth before closing it again. 

Sam sighed and stood up, “I’ll take a cheeseburger and whatever dessert you think looks best.” 

“Of course, Sam.” 

Sam did his best to smile, but he’s entirely sure that it fell flat. 

~~~~

Dean was snoring. Not some cutesy little whistle, no, a full-blown bear-hibernating-in-the-dead-of-winter kind of snoring. 

Sam laid awake, staring at the ceiling with ever-growing agitation. The sun was just peaking over the horizon outside their window, making pale orange strips of light fall across the wall adjacent to it. It had been pink just minutes ago. Now, faster and faster it paled into a buttery yellow. 

Cas stirred next to him, and Sam rolled onto his side to look at the angel better, his hand coming to rest under his cheek as he observed. 

There was a kind of peace on the angel’s face, as he continued to sleep without caring about the real world. Just hours of pretending to be anyone- _anything_ else. 

_Castiel and Samael were laying on their backs, hands tucked behind their heads as they stared up at the nighttime sky, lazy and captivated, their wings spread out under them. There were no colonies, towns,_ dorps _, people anywhere near here and the sky was vibrant with the billions upon billions of stars, blinding in their own dazzling way._

_Samael ached to dance with the silent winds of space, to twist and whirl with the infinite eddies._

_They were young then, Sam realized, based on the loose, billowy thoughts his past self was thinking. Nothing close to the sharp, concise patterns he’d grown used to during these memories_

_The sight was dizzying, even to Samael’s raging heart. There was something so… glorious about the midnight pool, swaying like ripples in water. His breath caught again. He was beyond enraptured, he was ensnared. His love for Castiel was one and the same to the sweet seduction of the nighttime sky. But, rarely did it manifest this cleary._

_“Where do you think they come from, Castiel?” Samael asked, a little breathlessly as he turned his head to his match. “The stars that twinkle like glowworms in the heavens?”_

_Castiel’s laugh was lighter than the feathers tickling Samael’s arms, “From nothing, perhaps, like us. They could be reflected dust, or icy fireflies stuck in the suspended ocean. We might never know, beloved.”_  
_Samael huffed, amused and unsated with that answer, “You’re dancing around the question.” It wasn’t a barb, but rather an invitation to expand._

_“Fire.” Castiel murmured, smiling to himself, “I think they burn like fire.”_

_“Not ice?”_

_“They don’t look cold to me.”_

_Samael laughed this time, cocking his head at a shooting star with wonder. “Why do they fall?”_

_“Because they’ve burned out. They can’t stay afloat anymore.” Cas’ jovial voice had fallen into a sad, contemplative whisper._

_“We won’t burn out, will we?”_

_“I don’t think so.”_

_“That’s good.”_

_“Nothing can burn forever, though.”_

_“Things can freeze forever.”_

_“You’re a rather curious mood tonight, beloved,” Cas said, rolling onto his side, wings splaying awkwardly until he corrected them._

_Samael shrugged, not peeling his eyes away from the midnight blue sky. ”I don’t think we’re as infinite as we think,” he mused distractedly._

_“Perhaps not. But we still have tonight,” Cas pressed a gentle kiss to Samael’s neck, “and tomorrow,” another kiss on Samael’s jaw, “and the day after that-”_

_Samael caught Cas’ mouth with his own, effectively quieting him as his hands pulled the smaller angel closer. They went on for hours, the night moving around them like a sweet ocean breeze._

_“Do you know how much I love you?” Samael asked when they broke apart for a moment to soak in the blackening darkness falling around them._

_Cas shook his head, playful aloofness dancing in his face. “Tell me.”_

_”More than then all the stars combined,” Samael whispered, reveling in the sudden surge of emotion in Cas’ blue eyes._

_”Be infinite with me,” Castiel said softly, cupping Samael’s cheek to hold his gaze, “As long as the stars burn in the sky.”_

_“Until they all freeze over,” Samael mused._

_A promise._

_A vow._

Sam blinked back into his own body to find Cas looking at him. 

“Morning,” Cas mouthed, a slight smile crowding onto his cheeks as he shifted closer.

There was no objection from Sam as their bodies slid against each other, Cas’ sleep-warm body was a welcome relief from the cool sheets. Even as Cas’ soft whisper brushed his ear, “Come with me to the bathroom?” 

Sam contemplated for a moment before sliding out of the covers and treading carefully to the bathroom. The floor was heated, rather than biting coldly into the soles of his feet like most rooms he’d been in over the years. 

It was a no-brainer, really to go into the bathroom with Cas. Dean had been right next to them, snoring. And with _that_ history forever ingrained into Sam’s mind, there was no way he was ever going to associate Dean with sex ever again. No more wondering about who Dean took home after nights at the bar, or sleeping with anyone- Cas specifically- in his vicinity. He was going to force himself into a sort of denial, ensuring that he never had to deal with that memory.

Cas shut the door behind him, eyeing Sam’s figure with a sort of reverence as he grazed a finger over the shape of Sam’s hip, up, up, up to his ribs and chest and his mouth. 

A shudder scraped its way up Sam’s spine, gooseflesh breaking out over his arms. He let Cas lean up to kiss him, standing still to allow Cas to lead him into this. 

He didn’t have a fight in him this morning, just a tired acceptance of what this was. He could leave. If he stopped caring, pushed against the press of Samael in his head rather than Cas’ physical form. Maybe he could get through this year without losing himself. He was losing his body with every passing day, to Cas’ touches and Dean’s stares. It didn’t belong to him, but if he could beat Samael in the end, it would. And he would be free. He couldn’t continue fighting without a sense of purpose. Constantly fighting would exhaust his willpower. This had to be better than the alternative. 

Didn’t it?

Cas had undone the strings on Sam’s sleep pants, shuffling them down as best he could without breaking from Sam’s mouth.

Getting with the program didn’t take much, just a shake out of his thoughts and Sam was returning the touches with a little more gusto than usual. He was domineering control of the kiss, his hands rising to get a grip of Cas’ hair. 

He could feel the arch of Cas’ back, pushing into his breathing space, a soft sound escaping his throat. 

Grace was ebbing and flowing, Cas’ ice and his fire, back and forth without rest. Sam’s very blood felt like it was boiling, then freezing as he pushed Cas back into the wall, a gasp falling from the angel’s mouth. His skin was crawling with heat and cold, his erection pressing into Cas’ hip while his brain went fuzzy. 

With a groan, Sam tugged impatiently at the soft material of Cas’ t-shirt. “Off,” he demanded lowly. 

Cas trembled slightly at the _command_ in that voice as he obeyed, dropping it to the floor. 

Sam watched Cas’ eyes snag on something behind him. He turned his head to look. The bathtub, huge, white fiberglass tub. “My wings won’t fit.”

Cas’ hand shot out with an obvious lack of hesitation, and a rush of grace later, the weight melted away into Sam’s skin. “How about now?” 

With a humorous huff, Sam stepped away to turn the faucet on, aiming for the hotter side of the scale to avoid any mishaps. 

Cas’ mouth met his shoulder, pressing searing open-mouth kisses to wear the base of his wings would be, hands smoothing down Sam’s waist.

Sam braced his hands on the wall adjacent to the tub, shuddering at the scratch of stubble over his back. 

“Cas,” his voice was a tinge rough, days of denying his orgasms had led him to be more receptive, easy to rile up and quick to jump on the opportunity of good sex. 

And Cas was _good_ at sex. Partly because of knowing Samael’s every reaction, every move that would grab his attention. But also because he was a giving lover.

Sam hadn’t paid much heed to it before, because all the great sex in the world wouldn’t change the situation.

But now?

Sam could let himself appreciate the slight scratch of fingers over his sensitive hip bones, the scrape of teeth against that spot behind his ear, the pointed tongue when Cas went down on him. Everything that drove Sam a little crazy inside. 

He finally turned around in Cas’ arms, lifting his own shirt off his body while the angel shuffled out of his pants. 

Sam took a moment to appreciate in the sharp lines of Cas’ body, perfect skin, toned muscle. Mostly perfect skin, actually. There was the pink, shiny scar on Cas’ forearm where Sam had burned him with his grace at the diner and hadn’t been able to heal himself completely. 

Sam kissed that scar sweetly, moving north to nip at the junction of Cas’ shoulder and neck. He moved across Cas’ chest, to kiss the little freckle under his nipple, one of two birthmarks Cas had. 

As far as Sam knew anyway. He licked over the nub, client closing his eyes and letting his hands roam over the hard lines of Cas’ body. 

Cas hummed softly, making a happy little noise as he carded his fingers through Sam’s hair. “What happened to “no lovey-dovey bullshit?” Cas asked with a slight catch in his breath as Sam nipped at his nipple. 

“I’m in a better mood this morning,” Sam said casually, taking a step back into the bathtub. He hissed at the hot water but was more than happy to ease down into it. 

“I can see that,” Cas mused, his hand drifting down to jack his hardening cock. 

Sam let his knees fall apart, bearing himself fully without an ounce of bashfulness to color his cheeks. 

Telling by the dilation of Cas’ pupils, his seduction was working. 

The angel stepped into the bathtub gingerly, making a face at the heat. “You’re comfortable with this temperature?” He asked, more curious than anything else. 

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hot bath in a hotel.” He thought for a moment. “I’ve never had a hot bath in a hotel.”

Cas nodded his understanding, sliding onto Sam’s lap to take the younger man’s dick into his hand, kissing up the column of this throat. “I appreciate that you’re opening up to me,” he murmured, his hand a steady force working Sam into a slight sweat. 

“I can’t fight forever, right?” Sam panted, his hips canting up. “Are you going to keep teasing me? Or can I expect to be fucked something this morning?” He asked, trying to shut out the thought that he was, in fact, being more open, more welcoming to Cas’ touch. 

Cas’ firm hand took Sam’s chin, forcing him to look up, “Someday, when we have the time, I will spend days teasing you, Sam. Pulling you closer and closer to the edge, letting you hover like you’re going to fall, just to stop you short. _Days._ ”

For some reason, Sam didn’t doubt that he would. He rolled in the tub, splashing a bit of water over the mouth of the bathtub as he straddled Cas’ hips. 

Cas frowned disapprovingly at the mess, the downturn of his lips quickly being kissed away by Sam. 

The angel’s hands crept up to encircle Sam, tracing the knobs of his spine before dragging his fingernails bluntly across his ribs.

A soft hiss tore out of Sam’s mouth, and his cock twitched in the water.

Cas smirked up at him and caught his mouth once more, his fingers drifting down to Sam’s ass, kneading the muscle with gentle reverence. 

Sam rocked his hips back into the touch, savoring the slight roughness.

He wanted to be lost in his thoughts, so completely thrown that he didn’t recognize himself in his movements, his voice. He wanted to disassociate, to forget it was his pants and whimpers that led to Cas fingering him open. 

Cas’ sweet whispers of encouragement fell on deaf ears as Sam did what his body was supposed to.

The angel didn’t even notice that the glazed look in his eyes was boredom rather than lust. 

But that was better than Cas trying to get him to pay attention.

Sam jolted back into his body at the push of a third finger, making a breathy little huff, “Cas.” His voice was just as raw as the need starting to simmer under his skin.

Based on the wicked grin looking up at him, Sam began to understand that he might actually like this someday. He might love it if everything goes according to Cas’ plan.

That’s so far off, though. It’s not the time to worry about it. As if he could with Cas’ middle digit prodding steadily at his prostate. 

“Ready?” Cas asked, a little breathlessly as he beheld the gasps that fell out of Sam’s mouth.

Sam nodded, closing his eyes as Cas’ hand receded and something thicker pushed at his entrance. Helping out, he pushed back with a choked grunt. 

Cas steadied Sam’s hips.“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he chastised gently, eyebrows pulling together as he studied Sam’s face. 

“Okay,” Sam breathed, pushing his nose into the junction of Cas’ neck to hide the rising blush on his cheeks. He hummed as Cas’ wet hands stroked through his hair, soothing him before rolling his hips slowly into the younger man. 

“You always feel so good, Sam,” Cas said, a content tone slicing into his voice, “you open up beautifully.” 

Sam’s cheeks heated further at the praise, canting his pelvis downwards to take all of Cas. The feeling of Cas’ cock wasn’t unusual, but this time Sam found himself moaning softly into the damp skin of Cas’ shoulder. He definitely was not at the point of dirty talk, but he could handle more… aware fuckings. Despite his tied tongue, he gyrated along the hard length of the angel, his conscience ebbing in and out of his attention. 

He fell into the steady rocking of their hips, sliding his arms around Cas’ neck and just enjoying the ride. It was so hard to not be aware of what he was doing, riding Cas like a two-piece whore.

He grimaced at the comparison. It wasn’t right, but he still felt embarrassed by it. Besides, he reminded himself, technically, this is a serious relationship. By technicality, they’d been together for millennia. There was no reason for him to be feeling like that. 

But there was. He didn’t have a consensual relationship with Cas, not at the start at least. Did this even count as consent at this point? Was there a point to consent with Cas anymore? 

He was jolted out of his thoughts as Cas picked up his speed, angling differently to hit Sam’s prostate as much as possible. Sam hesitated a half a second before taking his own cock into his hand, stroking in time with Cas’ rough, rolling thrusts. 

Sam saw the surprise and glee on Cas’ face but elected to ignore it, lest he lose his composure. 

“A little faster, please,” he requested softly, unsure of his own bravado. Sam wasn’t vocal with Cas usually. But he was making an effort now. 

If Cas was surprised by the request, he didn’t show it. He just complied, thumbs digging into the curve of Sam’s hips as he fucked faster into the younger man. 

Sam bit his lip sharply, cutting off the moans building in his throat. He was a livewire, rolling back and fucking himself along Cas’ length. His orgasm was building, his balls pulling up tight as Cas made a final few, brutal thrusts up into Sam’s body. 

With a low cry, Sam painted Cas’ chest and chin with cum, his hand still jacking until he was spent, shaking with the overstimulation.

Cas wasn’t far behind, just enough to make Sam squirm with aftershocks of his prostate being rocked into. 

The angel’s orgasm was much quieter, Cas biting his lip and looking at Sam’s flushed face. 

Sam stayed in his lap for a few moments longer, panting raggedly. 

It had never been like that. Not that open and… mind-blowing. 

Something _had_ to have shifted. 

“The blood,” Cas said, clearing his throat and gingerly easing out of Sam. 

Sam winced and nodded, wiping some mess off Cas with the washcloth before stepping out of the bath to get the knife out of his necessities bag. He had to sift through a couple of condoms, toothpaste, shaving cream and razors before he realized it wasn’t there. 

He turned to face Cas’, the bag still in hand as he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Cas swallowed, “I moved all your and Dean’s knives yesterday. They’re all in the car except the one from last night.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “You’re strange.” He slipped out the door with a snort at Cas’ bitch face.

Dean was sitting at the table, facing away from the bathroom, headphones on. He was humming along to something indistinguishable. 

Sam picked the knife up from the nightstand, and Dean caught sight of him, making a disgusted face.

Dean pushed his headphones off, nose scrunching up, “I’d like to ask for two rooms wherever we stop next, please. Preferably across the hotel.” 

Sam blushed, eyes falling to the floor. “I didn’t think we were all that loud.” 

Dean’s raised eyebrow said enough, and Sam retreated hastily to the bathroom. 

Cas was cleaned up as Sam closed the door behind him, letting his head fall back into the wood.

“We were too loud for your brother?” He asked carefully, stepping out of the draining tub. 

Sam nodded in mortification. “Why can’t we get two rooms?” He asked with a lingering grimace.

“It’s safer to stay in one,” Cas said, not without a little sympathy as he stopped in front of Sam to cup his face. “Once we get to the safe house, we can stay in the mini-house, completely safe from our noise, alright?” 

“Where is the safehouse?” Sam asked, handing over the knife and shuffle around to face away from Cas.

“On a little island off Massachusetts’ coastline. I’d like to fly over there but based on your brother’s… hesitation to fly at all and a lot of the factors that could go wrong, it’s better to just drive.” He chuckled a little. “Daniel didn’t like to fly either, not at high altitudes. He preferred to stay low and fly over the plains. Non-fatal heights, he called them.” 

“I don’t want to talk about Daniel,” Sam said sharply, “I don’t want anything to associate him with.” 

“Of course, Sam, my apologies.” Cas hissed softly as he cut his hand open, rubbing some across the expanse of Sam’s back. He didn’t require Sam’s grace to heal him anymore, so Sam was surprised to see Cas’ hand reaching in front of him. 

He didn’t take Sam’s hand though but instead turned him around. 

“What-” 

Cas’ fingers were tracing Sam’s side, before jumping frantically to his arm. He turned Sam again to look over his back, face in awe of what he was seeing.

“Cas, what?” Sam’s tone took a sharper edge.

“Your skin,” Cas marveled, “it’s smoother.”

“The bath?” Sam asked, confused and a little weirded out until he realized what Cas had been looking for. His scars.

The long scratch down his left side from a sparring accident with Dean. The silvery scrapes and scratches that littered his arms. Faded. Some were gone.

“What the hell?” He asked, stepping backward and looking down at his body. Gone, lighter, lighter, gone. Gone, gone, gone. Tears sprang suddenly into his eyes. “No. Cas.” Desperation tinged his voice as he slid to the floor, tracing the missing scars over and over with his fingernails. 

Cas grabbed his wrists, “Hey, hey, stop that.” He ‘tsk’ed at the angry red lines Sam had scratched into his skin. 

“He’s erasing me,” Sam whispered, glaring up at Cas. “He’s going to destroy me, and it’s going to be your fault.” 

Cas recoiled at that, moving away to wrap a towel around his waist. “I’m going to get dressed, alright. We’ll figure it out.”

Sam stayed where he was for half a moment after Cas left. Then, he was on his feet, grabbing for his bag, dumping it out to dig for the razors. He picked out a clean one and looked at the fading mark on his side. His scars were his backstory. They were what made him Sam Winchester. The little brother who couldn’t beat his brother in a fight, who always got up again no matter how bloody he was. This was his body. _His_. And no one was going to erase it like it never existed. Especially not some passive aggressive sex-addict with a bad attitude and codependency issues. He broke the plastic around the blade, holding it in the palm of his hand. 

He steeled himself before dragging it swiftly along the raised skin. Fire lit up across the new wound. He hissed at the pain as blood leaked down his stomach. Moments later, the wound sealed. Only the blood remained. “No,” his voice was a growl.

He sliced over it again. The pain didn’t even register before the cut was closed. “No!” He slashed at it, cutting deeper into his flesh. Again and again, before it had the chance to heal. Blood splattered across the sink, and Sam yelled in frustration as the pain stopped once more. 

The door swung open, Cas rushing to his side, eyes scanning the damage with wild desperation. He plucked the razor out of Sam’s hand and pressed a hand to the younger man’s forehead, catching him as he passed out from the grace rush.

“Oh, Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's head is going in dark places, but really, can you blame him? 
> 
> Also if you're curious where my idea of Samael came from check out the link below and look at #3. https://www.babygaga.com/15-baby-names-with-super-dark-meanings/ 
> 
> See you next week!  
> -Ace


	6. Day 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I'm not dead. More on that later. Enjoy!

Saying he was pissy was probably the understatement of the century. Watching Castiel haul his bloodied brother into their stolen car like a sack of flour was just another nail in the coffin. It put him on edge. He'd known the angel was strong, but this seemed ridiculous. His subconscious recognized it as the warning it was. Dean, however, did not. "Maybe you shouldn't have left him alone in the bathroom," he suggested testily, arms crossed over his chest. 

Cas closed the car door with a thud and turned to shoot a lazy glare at Dean, "I didn't realize Samael's grace would affect his body as much as it did. I'm sorry you had to see that, and even more sorry that it happened, but we don't have time to sit around and pray that your father doesn't catch up." 

Dean subconsciously accepted that the angel was right, but it didn't alleviate the feeling of _wrongness_ that sank into his stomach like a stone at the sight of Sam's limp body, the now returned wings wrapped tightly around his brother's torso. His face was twisted, even in a deep sleep, Sam couldn't find peace. 

Three months on his own and Sam had survived this assault on his body, mind, and soul. Dean had thought that once John got him out of Feather's hands, he'd be okay. Looking at the dynamic of them now, though, Dean wasn't so sure. There was a new tension to Sam. His eyes shifted quicker when the angel was moving faster and talking louder than usual. 

How many times had Dean seen that look on the vamp whores, strung out on the bloodless, floaty feeling but petrified of the sudden violence of their parasites? 

The angel hauled himself into the driver's seat of their stolen truck, letting it rumble to life under his hands. For a brief moment, Dean wondered if Feathers regretted what he'd done, or if he was just playing to Sam's changing, to ease him into it so Sam would be less likely to revolt again. 

"The blood is all superficial," the angel murmured as Dean slid into his designated seat in the back passenger side. "The cuts healed far quicker than Sam had hoped they would." He rubbed his mouth with his hand, exhaling into his palm and closing his eyes for a second. "He had just come to a state of calm too." 

"Are you sure that's really what you want to call your little rape fantasy? A state of calm?" Dean demanded, rubbing at the dried blood with a towel they'd stolen. "Because it's starting to look more and more like a brain-washing every day I have to watch you two together. I see the way he looks at you. You want us to think he wants _this_. That he wants _you._ But he looks at you like he's trying to appease your so-called better nature. He's thinking he can control the situation if he controls your mood. And that gets me thinkin'. What the fuck happened on that mountain that made him so jumpy to your raised voice? Why does he flinch when you move just a little too fast in his peripheral? Huh, Cas?" 

The angel didn't speak, didn't react. Just put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. 

"Great. So now you're gonna play the silent game," Dean said. "Must've been right then. Whad'ya do? Beat him a couple of times? Tie him down when he got a little too out of hand? I bet you're happier now that his scars are fading. We can't figure out what came from you, now can we? Can't see the shackle scars or the whip stripes? No, no, he's got the angel soup shit, he can fix himself right up when you fuck him over. Can he fix his noggin'? Will he be able to, I don't know, undo the mind-fuckery that you shoved down his throat. Probably quite literally?" 

"That is _enough_ , Dean," Cas growled out. "I understand that you are angry and afraid for your brother. You have no idea the stress I carry for him at the moment. I see that he is spiraling and I can't catch him when you're around. He is ashamed of all that has happened. Of what he allowed to happen. He fought me every inch of the way. He never gave in and he still lost. He's afraid of what _you_ think. Not your father. But you. He can't relax around me anymore because he is afraid of how you'll judge or mock him. You've succeeded in ripping away the comfort he allowed himself. We are both to blame for what happened in that bathroom. And it's our responsibility to ensure that it doesn't happen again." 

"Oh, so suddenly I'm the bad guy for finding you and what you've done repulsive?" Dean asked, hands shaking with the restraint of not putting his hands on that skinny little angel neck.

"There are no bad guys here, Dean. I promised your brother I would allow him to make his own choice about what to do once the year is up. Right now, his options are limited, and I am his only hope." The angel's words were unyielding. As if no argument could be made.

"Well, isn't that fucking convenient," Dean hissed, fingers curling into the seat cushion. "Did you ever stop and think about what it was going to do to him? Did you have any idea he was going to know what was happening the whole time?"

"No."

"Apparently you didn't care enough about Sam to stop it when you could." 

"He had an opportunity to leave," Cas said through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath. "I was dying, already sinking into the dark of our kind when _he_ pulled _me_ back. He kept me alive because he needs me as much as I need him. We are not human. You, I, and him are different than most. Your bloodline runs along with the paranormal. I already told you that you are a candidate for this change. The only difference is that your soulmate is dead- thanks to your brother." Castiel's tone went sharp, clinical. "However, that doesn't mean you can't change as well. It would be much less pleasant than Sam's transition, but he and I could do it at any time we desire."

Dean saw red, opened his mouth to speak-

"Do not think for a moment, Dean Winchester, that I will hesitate to do _whatever_ it takes to keep my beloved safe from you or your father." The angel raised his eyes to the mirror, his grace bleeding through his irises. "So I suggest you keep your looks of disappointment to yourself, stop shaming your brother for his comfort, and shutting the fuck up before I make you." 

Dean's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw ticking. 

Clearly, Sam was a lot better at controlling the angel's wrath. Dean stared at his brother, sleeping across the seats, legs curled up with his head lying over Dean's lap. 

Dean remembered those knobby knees when Sam hit his first growth spurt. It was a hell of a lot easier to fit in the back seat then. And Sam didn't have an additional set of fucking appendages back then either.

Dad had been partly right. Castiel was dangerous when he felt protective. What he'd do for Sam exceeded all of the expectations he and John had. 

Dean brushed a curl of hair out of Sam's face. Castiel was right about Sam's dependency, and the angel held most of the cards. Dean had seen the burn that Sam had left on Castiel. It hadn't healed. Based on the stark lack of open wounds on his bloodied brother, most of the angel related cuts and bruises healed instantaneously. 

While his face was written with stress, Sam's body sure didn't look it. His breath was deep and even, like a slow ticking metronome. There were no nervous twitches, disturbed movements. 

"How long did you knock him out for?" Dean asked softly, the perfect image of a defeated man. 

When Feathers looked up again at the mirror, his eyes were back to their original blue. "Long enough to get us to the next stop."

"That's like eight hours," Dean said, "isn't that going to fuck with his, I don't know, body systems? Is he gonna piss his pants if he can't wake up to tap a kidney?"

"Sam's bodily functions are perfectly fine, Dean."

"But-"

_"Dean."_

"Do you realize how controlling you are? How this makes your relationship with Sam look? Did you tie him down every time he disagreed?"

"I can put you down, too, if that's going to shut you up."

"Dickwad."

Castiel's arm raised over the seat, reaching for Dean.

"Fuck off," Dean snarled, smacking the hand waving in his face with intent. "I'm not afraid to bite you if that hand gets close to my face again. You can't twist me like you've twisted Sam. I won't play this game of chicken with you."

"This isn't a game. Your father is going to murder me, and by default, allow your brother to perish the worst death you could ever possibly imagine." The angel laughed dryly, "He might just end it himself before it gets to the twelve-hour mark. I'm not playing a game, Dean, I'm winning a battle."

"And you sound like a pretentious asshole." 

"Your brother has a much more defined sense of maturity. His insults were a little more heartfelt. And creative." Cas said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "He has such a mouth on him. You wouldn't know that, though. I do sometimes wonder if you've ever thought about it. I mean, you did see him when he was a young, pretty teenager."

"You're sick," Dean said, blanching and snatching his hands away from Sam's hair.

"Surely though, there had to be some sort of attraction, he is lovely." 

Dean's eyes fixed themselves to the back of Castiel's head, mouth agape. His stomach was roiling, his mouth tasted like iron. 

"That ass of his," Castiel sighed; a little huff of disbelief, "After all these years, I forgot how amazing it was to be buried in him. The little whines and pants he makes right when you push in. No one can replicate that."

"Stop," Dean whispered, teeth grinding and hands shaking. 

"Oh, I forgot. By technicality, Sam knows what it's like to be fucked by you. Several times." A smile stretched across Castiel's face. "Your previous life, Daniel." Castiel clicked his tongue. "You two were always beautiful together. It was amazing how in sync you two were. Gorgeous."

"Shut your lying mouth!" Dean said, hitting the headrest in front of him. "You can't fuck with my head like you did with his." 

"I didn't fuck with his head as much as I fu-"

Dean flung himself half over the seat, a roar clawing out of his throat, pounding fist after fist into Castiel's stupid, evil face.

The truck swerved off the highway, tires screeching. They came to an abrupt halt in the ditch, thankfully upright. Castiel grabbed ahold of Dean's jacket collar, eyes alight with grace as he dragged the hunter forwards and out the truck, unphased by the awkward angle Dean was draped over the seat. The blooming bruises sunk back into the angel's pale skin as if they'd never been there.

"Why couldn't you just leave him be?" Dean shouted, squirming and twisting in Castiel's ever-tightening grip. He tried kicking and landing a couple of low blows, but the angel was surprisingly good at anticipating his movements. 

Castiel's hand savagely clamped onto Dean's throat as he backed him into the side of the truck, effectively pinning him. His nose was less than an inch away from Dean's, his breath hot on the hunter's face, "Because until you understand that you are powerless to Sam and I's will and desire, we are in danger. Everything I've endured these centuries would have been for _nothing_." Spittle hit Dean's cheek, and he flinched away, smacking at the hands holding his collar as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. "Everything that Sam went through on that mountain was for him. I won't lie to you. There was some selfish part of me that wanted him back with me. I don't expect you to understand. I don't even want you to.

"You don't get it. You will never comprehend why I've done what I've done because Anael is dead. I said there were no bad guys here. But I know how you think with that hunter's brain of yours. There always has to be some monster, right? So I can play the bad guy for you. I can let you think that I am the monster that destroyed your brother. It was a miracle that I got Sam to understand my loss. I can't repeat that with you. So if you don't allow yourself to accept the reality of the situation, I am more than willing to allow you to believe what you already assume." Castiel pushed once more against Dean's windpipe before letting him go, those blue eyes hard and unforgiving.

"Get in the truck," Castiel growled, shoving past a wide-eyed Dean to clamber back into the car, not a hair misplaced on his stupid angelic head.

Dean stood for a few moments longer, panting and dragging air into his lungs. His fingers ran over the sore skin of his neck, eyes wild. " _Shit._ "

For one, long, terrible moment, he considered not getting in the truck. Cas was overprotective, unafraid to hurt whoever came close to Sam. Some appalling part of him drew the similarities of John to Castiel. They were both reckless with their need to guard what they considered theirs. And that would be their downfalls.

Drawing in another long breath, he moved carefully around the back of the car and took his seat in the back. 

They drove in silence for hours, Dean floating in some sort of daze. He was angry, teeth pressed together tight enough to make his jaw ache. Was the angel this aggressive towards Sam? Is this what he'd endured those months? Constant fear and abuse until he submitted to the angel's will? He'd figured there had been a few instances of violence to subdue his brother but based on Castiel's affirmation, Dean had a sinking feeling that it had gone much farther than a couple of blows and hogties. 

\---

The next time they drove through a town, it was just past noon, the sun staring down through the winding road into what looked like a rest stop town. Weed choked, rundown sidewalks lined the cracking asphalt. Tired people passed family businesses and shops.

"Well, this is all very depressing," Dean muttered, reaching for the colorful blanket laying on the floor to drape over his sleeping brother and his wings. 

Cas grunted an agreement and pulled into a cutesy bakery, complete with the hand-painted, wooden sign. "I'll be back in a minute, try not to draw attention to yourself," Cas instructed, leaving the car running as he slipped out.

Dean turned his attention to Sam, patting his cheek with more than just a gentle tap, "Hey, bud, come on. Wake up, Sam. Fuck." 

Sam wasn't stirring, the steady fall of breath not faltering for even a moment. The entire drive, he'd remained utterly still, locked into the deep sleep Castiel had put on him. 

Dean scratched at his forehead, thinking. He slid the blanket down Sam's shoulder a little, enough for the peak of his wing to peek out. Dean slid his fingers through the soft downy, finding a particularly large feather somewhere close to the outer edge. "Sorry, Sammy," he whispered, yanking it down with a wince of his own.

A spasm crackled up his brother's back, the wings flaring out with Sam's outcry. Dean was shoved violently against the door, grunting on impact. "Shit, shit." The wing that Dean had desecrated curled in tight to Sam's front like it was presenting the damage to its master. 

Sam's fingers hesitantly touched the wound, coming away slightly bloody. "Dean?" 

"Castiel is going off the deep end, too, Sam," Dean said hurriedly, eyes shifting from the storefront and back.

Sam's look of confusion and disbelief didn't help Dean's frantic mood. His eyes fell to Dean's throat, the angry red fingerprints that dotted the sides. "What-"

"I called him out on his bullshit, and he started saying this twisted shit about the past. Our," Dean flopped a hand in the air, "ancestors or whatever. I think he's making it up to get a rise out of me, but something ain't right with him right now. Castiel can't be in control of this situation anymore. He said some crap about being the bad guy for me. Making it easier to accept. " 

Sam swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Of course. The acceptance-of-your-position spiel. Sam remembered the barn, the heavy weight of the metal switch on his bare thighs, the soft sound of the clippers. Cas sure had a fucking penchant for that line. "It's not a lie. Cas doesn't lie. That's the whole problem; he tells it like it is, no bells and whistles. That's what I was freaking out about at the diner. I had... a memory of Daniel."

Dean's look of horror spurred Sam to continue, his fingers still lingering over the hole of his missing feather" Not- not _those_ memories. Just Anael and dinner, Cas and I talking about... you, I suppose. Daniel? I just don't know, Dean. I can't differentiate. It's like I know _you_ and I know _him_ , but your similarities are uncanny." 

The truck door opened, and Cas paused, looking at Sam with a bored, unamused expression, "You're up early."

"Yeah, weird that I was knocked out at all," Sam sniped, his lip curling slightly.

"You were hurting yourself. I intervened," Cas said coldly, extending a paper bag with the bakery mascot on it to them. 

Neither Winchester took it.

"You don't get to do this again, Cas. I keep thinking we're past it. You cannot restrain me every time I react or lash out. You cannot treat me like I'm inferior to you by knocking me out at the first sign of trouble. I'm being erased, and you don't get to take even more time away from me."

"You are _still_ covered in blood, Sam. Do you not realize that? Do you not understand the magnitude of what you were about to do to yourself in that bathroom?" Castiel demanding, dropping the bag into the empty seat next to him. "I refuse to partake in your suicide, or even allow you to make an attempt. I did what I did for your safety. Perhaps it could be considered selfish, what I've done, but understand that you have done the exact same thing. I wanted you to let me die on the mountain, but we don't get what we want." 

Sam clenched his jaw, glaring down the other angel with blazing malice in his eyes. 

"Nothing to say?" Castiel asked testily, holding his ground.

Sam's silence confirmed that he did, in fact, had nothing to say to that. 

Castiel's gaze shifted from Sam to Dean, lazily and coolly, "Why don't you sit up front with me?"

Sam scoffed, "Is this supposed to be another one of your games? I have a meltdown, and I get something taken away? If I don't do what you say, you'll hurt him?" 

"Something along those lines," Castiel said, unblinkingly as he jerked his chin towards the front seat.

Dean nudged Sam's side with his fingertips, a gentle reassurance as he moved into the front seat as requested. 

Castiel waited patiently, eyes following Dean's every movement, "Are we all done being petty?" 

"Nope," Sam said, rubbing his stinging appendage with his palm. 

"Sam." Dean chided softly, pressing slightly into the car door, putting as much space as he could between himself and the angel.

"Whatever."

Castiel rolled his eyes, starting the truck up and finding a somewhat static-y radio station playing some 90's pop song. 

"Is this what we're really going to listen to?" Sam bitched, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

Castiel raised his eyes to the mirror, "Have I ever told you about the time we took Daniel to those hot springs in the midwestern plains?"

"Fuck you," Sam hissed. Dean shifted uncomfortably. 

"You have. Several times." 

"Do you really want to go there, Cas? Because I'm more than happy to discuss _that_ little situation any time. I'm actually pretty upset about it." His voice rose, pitching incredulously as he glared a hole into the back of Cas' head. 

The angel didn't deign to respond to him, just turned the Spice Girls up and continued on his merry way out of the town. the pastries forgotten on the front seat.

Sam scoffed and leaned back into his seat, wincing at the shift in his wing. He focused on the pain, letting his warm grace slither through his veins into the biting loss. He relaxed as the pain subsided, a new feather pushing into the missing gap.

Sam almost couldn't contain his jolt of surprise when he caught sight of it. What used to be a silvery-white feather was now darkened into a deep tawny. He ran his finger over it, silently mourning the loss of his plumage. 

It stuck out like a sore thumb against the snow-white of the remaining downage. 

Sam's throat tightened, and he looked out the window, eyes welling with angry tears. How many days had he preened and flaunted his wings, believing they were his? Traitorous things, to fall victim to Samael just as he was. His dreams were no longer black and calm. 

They held years, millennia of memories, skimming by fast enough to see, but not grasp. A peak of Cas' wings here, a glimpse of twined fingers there. Muddy lines tracing the contours of his hands, a shattered marble statue, a locked door on broken hinges. 

There was so much of _him_ , encompassing all of Sam. What use did his eighteen years of life compare to an angel's? 

A stone of doubt dropped into his stomach, plunging deep down inside him. 

_You are not me_ a low voice whispered. _We cannot be one and you are weak_ A lover's laugh rang out through his head, and not even Sam's burning grace could keep him warm as he felt the angel settle into the corner of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Fuck me with a spoon and call me soup, I hate words. I hit a creative block unlike anything else I've ever had and I think my brain is crippled. Enjoy the chapter and I'll try not to do this unplanned hiatus thing again.
> 
> Your comments helped me more than you may ever know, thanks for not giving up on this story. Thank you Hazel for motivating me into getting this chapter online!! I put her as co-author on this specific chapter because she amused me with some lines of text that made it in.


	7. Day 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big fat mess but hey, it didn't take me half a year.

Sam's back ached with the effort of keeping his wings folded back. The past twelve hours, he'd done everything in his power to keep the traitorous feather out of Castiel's line of sight. _Feathers_. After the first, they'd begun sprouting here and there, luckily all on the back half of either wing. More than a dozen dotted his once pure, gorgeous appendages. He'd opted for a sickeningly slow round of missionary then flat out refused to roll over so Cas could blood his wings. 

He'd claimed he was worn out and didn't need the massage. Cas was seemingly pleased with Sam's "fucked out" spiel and dropped little beads of blood onto the tips of his appendages instead.

Luckily, Dean had gotten his own room and avoided talking or looking at Castiel since the outburst in the truck. 

Cas seemed pleased with himself, seeing Dean's obedience and Sam's desire within several hours of each other.

His pleasant mood held through the night, and he woke up much more affectionate than he'd gone to sleep.

The angel laid on top of his mate, fingers tracing the panes of Sam's stomach thoughtfully. "I never actually believed I'd get this back," he murmured, eyes drooping slightly with contentedness. 

Sam's eyes glazed, looking over the ugly red walls with a heaving sigh. He hadn't slept nearly at all, wondering if he was going insane or Samael really was returning to his body. 

Sam wondered if Cas was playing dumb, waiting for the teen to tell him or if Sam had succeeded in hiding the change from Cas.

The lack of sleep gave him time to reflect. What had caused the regrowth to be in Samael's plumage? Was it merely because the feather was removed, or rather because Sam healed the wound with the grace of his angel counterpart? Did his and Cas' kind molt? Was his body just in wait for that to come? 

Stifling a groan, Sam contemplated how he could get his hands on a hunter lore library. He wanted a crack at this research. Bobby and Dean made some bounds, but for fuck's sake, that didn't cut it. 

Sam was the only one who would be able to comprehend the spells and functions of their culture. Based on the memories, the lives of the angels seemed to be peaceful and nomadic, except for when capturing your mate reincarnate and raping them back into existence. That seemed to be the only exception really.

Not to mention Samael's flair for dramatics and flashes of anger. Maybe he and Cas were just a rotten pair of apples. Sam didn't like looking through the eyes of Samael, the boredom that seemed to creep in his subconscious, like a mindset of 'been-there-done-that.' 

"Samael and I sometimes spent days lounging, only getting up for food if we absolutely had to. Someday, I wish to do the same with you. Once we get to the safehouse and set up the warding of course. We'll be able to do whatever we want."

Sam bit back a response, knowing it was in both his and Dean's best interest to not take the bait, "Maybe. If we can get there without murdering each other." He did his best to sound jovial, teasing, but deep down, it felt flat on his tongue. 

"As deep as Dean's distaste for me runs, no one is going to murder anyone else on this drive," Cas assured, fingers coming to a halt on Sam's waistband. 

"Can we not talk about Dean right now?" He asked, watching Cas' clever fingers slide under the elastic and float along the skin to his hip.

"Of course, beloved," Cas said, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to Sam's chest, "Turn over." 

"I want to try something else," Sam splurted, tongue almost tripping over itself in haste to speak. The fingers that had gripped his hip stopped, waiting. 

"What?"

Sam's panic may have very well been tangible, but he managed to whisper out a tentative, "I want to ride you." 

Cas' eyebrows hit his hairline, "Really?" His tone was disbelieving.

Unable to muster the courage to continue speaking, Sam carefully rolled over Castiel, straddling his hips gingerly. The angel's hands bracketed his thighs, thumbs pressing into the meat of his quads, rubbing soothing circles.

"Do you need help prepping yourself?" Cas whispered, as if afraid to startle the man above him.

Sam shook his head, cheeks heating as he plucked up the lube from the night before, thrown haphazardly to the corner of the bed.

His own fingers were new to his plethora of memories, but it didn't stop the slight perk in his dick, only at half-mast from morning wood. 

Castiel's eyes were wide as if he were observing a miracle unfold right before him.

Sam panted softly as he sunk two fingers into himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to forget the look of reverence the angle was casting him. 

Cas didn't tell him to slow down as Sam prematurely pushed another digit to his hole, a groan rolling out of his throat at the burn. It amazed Sam to this day that he wasn't just open all the fucking time. Most couples had sex, what, one or two times a week? They were practically fucking like rabbits, and Sam's body still took time to get with the program. 

What a load of bullshit.

He let his head fall back as his fingers began to scissor, the stretch not unfamiliar but definitely too fast. 

"Let me help," Cas murmured, his calloused hands sliding up Sam's thighs. 

Sam shook his head, taking a rasping breath, "I can do it myself." He canted his hips back, out of Cas' reach.

"You don't have to," a firm hand clamped around the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down into a bruising kiss. Cas rolled his tongue against the seem of Sam's mouth, moaning softly when the teen opened for him. The other one found Sam's hand, sliding his fingers against together with his mate's. "You don't have to go through this alone. I know the change-"

"I don't want you to do it," Sam whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Cas froze under him, but Sam didn't open his eyes to see his reaction. A moment later, Cas' hands pulled away, leaving Sam untethered above him.

Hissing through his teeth, Sam pulled his fingers out, opening his eyes to meet Cas'. Using the leftover slick on his fingers, he jacked the angel slowly, thumbing under the head.

"I'd begun to wonder when Samael's coloring would start to appear," Cas murmured conversationally, lifting a hand to graze the inner edge of Sam's wing, shuddering gently with pleasure.

Sam steeled his shoulders, willing his wings away from the tickling touch. He held Cas' gaze as he aligned himself with the hard cock under him, sinking down. The cockhead pushed past his rim, and he winced. Taking a slow breath, Sam looked up to the ceiling. He felt powerful like this, better, being on top for once. A spectacularly lousy plan rolled around in his head. 

He rolled his hips, once, twice. The words bubbled up before he could stop them, "I hate you." He looked at Castiel, his voice was flat, tight. "I hate who you are and what you've become to me and my brother." His heart was thudding, his chest bursting with untold emotion. Excitement, maybe? Adrenaline for sure. 

"You want me to love you, but time and time again you show me just _exactly_ how impossible that is." Sam continued, watching Cas' mouth thin out. "I'd considered forgiving you for everything you've done to me because I gave you the same treatment- worse by definition of gore, I suppose." Sam rolled his hips downwards, finding a smooth, comfortable rhythm. "But the _second_ you laid a hand on Dean, the _moment_ you threatened him, you lost everything you've been working for." 

Cas' fingers knotted into the bedsheets, he opened his mouth to interject. 

Sam didn't let him, "So you can enjoy my body, you can adore _his coloring_. You can love every moment of sex from now until the end of this year. Because once it's up-" Sam exhaled quickly, it could have been a laugh, or a pant- "You will never see me again. I could kill you, but I'm not going to. I'm going to let you live, so you can always remember that you fucked up. You lost me. Not just once. But _twice_." Sam circled his hips. Once. Twice. Letting it dig in. "Man, you really don't know how to keep a hold on your lovers." 

Sam let his hands down to Cas' wrists, ignoring the grace burning in the angel's eyes. He smiled, unrestrained and joyous. "You can't have me. You can't have Dean. You are going to be alone forever." Sam's nails dug into the skin on Cas' wrists as he pushed back against Cas' cock, huffing softly. "So, allow me to play the whore for you, just so you remember that you could have had me forever. Had me like this for the rest of our lives. But you made the mistake of threatening me, my family." 

Sam laughed, a low, deep lover's laugh, tipping his head back to fuck himself on Cas' length, letting himself enjoy the pleasure racing up his spine. His hand fell to his own cock, jacking himself in time with his strides. He palmed the head of his cock and moaned, the tip wetting the little tunnel he'd made for himself.

"You were right about one thing, though. I _can_ accept this. I'm going to allow myself every joy in this little fuckfest. You say you know my body; that you can make me feel _so_ good. I believe it." Sam smiled, biting into his bottom lip. "I might just let you, too." 

Cas hissed slightly as Sam bore down on him, bouncing faster. 

"You like that?" Sam asked, tightening his ass again to watch Cas' face contract. "You do, huh? Good." Sam's hand flew over his cock, switching from thrusting into the tight heat of his hand and grinding back into the hard length in his ass. "Shit that's so good." He moaned, hissing as he pushed closer and closer to that edge, pulling Cas with him.

"You gonna come, Cas?" He asked huskily, looking down at Cas through his eyelashes, the vision of coyness. "Gonna come for me?" 

"Fuck you," Castiel hissed, hands shredding through the shitty sheets of the bed.

"But, Cas," Sam purred, "you are." He pushed his back once more, hitting that spot right on. He gasped as he came, spraying across Cas' chest. He bore down on the cock in his ass, grinding down as Cas let out a broken cry, coming deep inside him. 

Sam laughed again, hands braced on either side of Cas' head as he met his eyes. "You and Samael have no idea what you're playing with. I will not roll over for him to walk all over me. I may have his memories, but he will not come back for you. I won't let him." He pressed a hard, chaste kiss to Cas' temple, pulling grace into his body. "I won't let you have him back, _beloved_."

Cas' eyes widened, lips parting in surprise at the casual Enochian on Sam's tongue. 

Sam shrugged, sliding off Castiel and wiping himself down.

Fuck those feathers. They were nothing. Specks of Samael, droplets, in a sea of Winchester blood and bone. There would be more, Sam knew. But it wasn't going to affect him. He wouldn't allow it. 

Honestly, Sam didn't give a shit if Cas had saw the feathers. It was more beneficial to Sam this way. Let Cas have his hope, it would be so much better to see the heartbreak on his face when the year was up, and Samael was lost in the angel afterlife. 

Sam left Cas on the bed, stepping away to grab their knife. He crawled back onto the angel. He couldn't read Cas' face. Those blue eyes were seeking, trying to see something past Sam's features. 

"Staring at me isn't going to change how I feel about this. About you." Sam said, twirling the knife around his fingers before flipping it on Cas, the point resting toward the angel's sternum. 

"Does this make you feel better?" Cas asked suddenly, curling his fingers around Sam's wrist, not pushing away, just resting there; as if he would plunge the knife into his own chest. "Dominating me? Samael and I quite enjoyed doing this." 

Sam's lip curled. "You would, wouldn't you? But you can't say you didn't enjoy what you did to me. But that wasn't 'domination,' Cas. It was grooming, it was rape on a whole different level." 

"I didn't enjoy what happened to you, Sam. I don't take pride in how your and I's relationship started. Someday, though, you might forgive me." It was the assurance in Castiel's voice that sent Sam.

Sam scoffed, "Why do you keep separating yourself from the situation? 'You don't enjoy _what happened_ to me?' You fucking happened to me! All of this was you!" He yelled, gripping Cas' wrists to pin him wholly. "I didn't consent to this! I have never consented to this!" 

Cas' voice dropped into condescension"Well-"

Sam slapped him.

Every ounce of energy and grace in his body focused on Castiel's face, pouring through Sam's palm. 

Cas' head jerked to the side with a sick _smack_ , Sam's handprint forming immediately, a blushing red. 

The angel's eyes were blown wide, lips parting in surprise and pain. 

"You are done," Sam hissed, leaning in close, "playing this game with me. We are nothing. The _most_ you are to me is a fuck-buddy. If you even think about laying a hand on me or Dean without explicit permission, I will cut your hands off. And I know they'll regenerate. So I can do it again. And again. And again until the lesson sinks in. I will make your life a living hell, Castiel. And I will do it all with his face. His body. His hands. Until you cannot differentiate him and me." Sam's wings flew open, an unrestrained show of dominance. Something flared in the back of his mind, like a physical recoil. _Stop!_ Sam smiled, wide and unrestrained. 

Cas continued to stare at him, blue eyes wild and searching. His hair was messy from the fucking, his lips swollen from biting them. He looked debauched and terrified, and Sam couldn't help but love it.

Sam reached down to pick up the knife that had fallen into the bedsheets. "Give me your hand." When Castiel didn't make a move to assist, Sam grunted his impatience and snatched it up, slicing a deep line into the angel's palm. He sunk his nails into the cut, ignoring Cas' jerk of pain. _Sam, stop_.

Blood welled, and Sam lifted the hand over his shoulder, letting the trickle drip over his wings. He moaned, closing his eyes to just savor the fresh relief. "I think Dean will be driving today," Sam stated conversationally, releasing Cas and sliding off of him.

"You might want to clean up, though. You're a mess," Sam taunted, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Wordlessly, Cas rose, slipping into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Sam rolled his eyes, using the wet washcloth to clean up the sweat and blood on his chest and shoulders. He understood that what he was doing was no better than anything that Cas had done, but he didn't have it in him to care. He'd tip-toed around people his whole life, putting his head down and disassociating. He couldn't be bothered to check himself right now. 

When the year was up, he'd take the time to reexamine who he was as a person, if the pain he inflicted Cas was worth it.

But not today. Not this week. Not this month. Not for a while.

He was being erased, and both Castiel and Samael knew it. But if he could turn Cas on the both of them, perhaps Sam could twist Samael back into whatever hellhole he was currently trying to crawl out of. 

_Did that make you feel better?"_ the voice was venomous, seething.

Sam contemplated for a moment, unzipping his duffel, "Yes,"he said, "I think it did."

\--- 

Dean kept glancing between Sam and Castiel, eyes drifting from the interstate to the lingering mark on the angel's cheekbone.

"I'd just ask if I were you," Sam said, leveling his brother with a bored stare.

Dean hesitated, before shaking his head. "I don't want to know." 

Castiel seemed to be lost in a world of his own, staring out the window, unfocused and drifting.

Better than yesterday, Sam supposed. He looked out over the plains of Wyoming, simultaneously bored and entranced with the hollow beauty of it. The sky yawned out over them, darkened to an ashy grey and barest blue, darker clouds rolling together to form dark masses of abstract shapes. The golden grasses sprawled out for miles in every single direction held apart by only four lanes of interstate. Hazy, purplish-blue mountains poked up in the distance, the faintest white still on their tips from last year's snow. 

This year's snowy weather was late, it could appear anytime now depending on where they were in the US. Christmas was only about a month away now. Almost finals season too if Sam had made it to Stanford.

He sighed at that thought. Sam had worked so hard to get that scholarship, killing his mental health and sleeping patterns. He'd pleaded, begged, worked his ass off, did every assignment, ensured his transcripts followed him to get that full ride.

And Castiel had flushed it down the drain as a second thought. 

"We're just going to keep driving east. At this rate, we'll have to stop one more time for gas before we reach the safe house," Sam said, looking over their US interstate map. "We can grab lunch then, too."

Dean hummed his acquiescence, crossing into the passing lane. 

"Why don't you use a blinker?" Sam asked, blowing a strand of hair off his brow.

"There's no one behind us." 

"But you should still use your blinker." 

"Are you driving?" 

"It's the law, Dean." 

Dean pulled a face, looking over at him, "We desecrate graves, kill monsters that are still seen as humans by the government, but my blinker is really where you play the law card." 

"You could get pulled over and fined for not using a blinker. And I don't want to get arrested like this." 

"You don't use the blinkers."

"Yes, I do."

"Since when?"

"Since I was twelve and you taught me to drive."

"Bullshit." 

"You just can't accept that I'm a better driver than you." They both knew that was false. Dean was scarily good at maneuvering cars at breakneck speeds and getting out of tricky chase situations unharmed. 

Dean rolled his eyes, falling quiet again.

Sam had truly missed that banter, the snide, comical retorts, and overall name-calling that they usually dissolved into. The banter he and Cas had shared was much sharper, more aggressive. Those interactions needed to result in a clear win because neither angel was going to back down from an altercation.

The bed this morning had just proved precisely that.

He felt no remorse for hitting Cas, or using his body as a means to an end: Cas had done the same, had he not? But even Samael had been disgusted by his behavior. 

That probably spawned from the fact that Sam had hit his counterpart's other half if Sam was being candid with himself.

Sam knew he was losing a war, so he decided it made sense to fight without restraint, that way it was startlingly clear to Cas that he was about to lose everything he held dear. And Sam didn't give a shit if it meant sinking to their level, even under. 

He was going to fight dirty to regain the ground he lost yesterday to Samael. Some deep part of him knew very well that he might lose himself in this battle, that he just might debase and twist and rape his own morals far beyond where they lie now. 

How far he would push himself in this mess was all to be determined by how hard Cas pushed back, if Samael rooted deeper into his head like a parasite.

He let the anger wash over him, fresh and engulfing, his grace singing a lullaby of war. Sam couldn't lay back anymore, there was no point now. They were off the mountain, Cas was outnumbered, and Sam grew stronger every day. His grace responded to his will, doing as he commanded and doing it without a fight. 

The temperature of the car rose steadily, the more he thought about shoving Samael into a little box and letting him rot. Degree by degree, Sam's wrath roiled in his stomach, fire overtaking his veins.

He was being baptized in fire. 

"Sam?" a strained voice called out to him, and Sam turned to see Castiel, eyes wide and mouth open. He felt the car roll to a stop under his body.

Orange light fell upon the smaller man, illuminating him like a burning sun. Enochian tumbled out of Castiel's lips, "Beloved? Is it you?"

Sam grinned, shedding his overcoat, allowing his wings to spread into whatever space they could. "'Fraid not, Cas, still me." The boiling heat spilled across Sam's back, engulfing every feather until he thought they were burning off, one by one.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut, and Dean barked a curse.

He was alight, wings glowing like magma, blinding and pure.

The heat seeped into his bones, crackling along the calcium and marrow, burning like iron rods. Sam hummed, content and free.

He exhaled slowly, dissolving back into himself. 

Castiel stared at him in horror. Dean stared at him in awe.

Sam felt no weight on his shoulders, but his back was hot, tingly almost. He reached back behind himself, wincing tenderly at the raised skin over his backbone beneath his fingertips. 

He looked to Dean for help, and his brother complied wordlessly, pulling Sam's collar away glace at his skin. 

"Dude, that's a tattoo," Dean intoned breathlessly. "Wings. What the fuck was that?"

Sam frowned, considering his grace with his eyebrows pinched together. He'd changed the composition of his curse.

He looked to Castiel, who swallowed hard.

"I haven't been able to use my grace like that since Samael died. His reincarnation seems to be returning the original strength of our grace to us both. You more rapidly than I, it seems." He said, looking down at his own hands. "We never really had reason to use it to its fullest extent, though. He and I preferred the hard work of creation over just whipping something into or out of existence." 

"So you're saying that your dead lover is now super-powering my brother like some kind of cliché X-man origin story?"

Cas pulled a face, shaking his head in utter confusion. 

Sam frowned, "So why didn't they disappear entirely if we can 'whip things in and out of existence'?"

"Probably because they are a vital part of your angelic power. You can't just... erase them," Cas explained, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in Samael's grace. 

"Why not?" Sam demanded.

"Because you can't bite off your own finger!" Cas yelled, frustrated, "You can bite someone else's finger off with the strength it takes to bite a baby carrot, but your brain tells you that you can't do that to your own body. Your brain is telling you that you can't so you won't."

Dean hummed thoughtfully, "So you're saying I could bite your finger off without any issues?" 

"Daniel was kinky like that, too," Cas snarked defensively, snapping his teeth in Dean's direction. Dean pulled back his hand with a disgusted huff. 

"Can both of you just shut up?" Sam asked, leaning back with a slight hiss. His back didn't precisely sting, but it wasn't pleasant. Not any worse than Cas' blood. "Dean, you can drive. I'm good." 

Dean hesitated, looking like he wanted to continue talking. Sam's look of frustration quieted him, though and he pulled back onto the Interstate. 

_Using our grace isn't going to keep me out of your head, Sam_ , the voice murmured, sing-songing arrogantly.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shutting as he worked on pushing that voice away.


End file.
